


mirror's face

by ryukogo



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Captain Sky's Pirates, F/M, First Crush Baseball, Gen, Isekai, M/M, Summer Troupe Is A Family, The Floral Prince, The Great Sardine Search, Water Me!, a dumbass family. but a family regardless, check notes at top of each chapter for cw if any, no beta we die like men, yuki has the braincell of summer troupe: the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 56,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukogo/pseuds/ryukogo
Summary: Once, during an old production, the previous members of MANKAI bought a set of floor mirrors that never ended up getting used, and was forgotten about. However, these mirrors were rather strange ones - if you saw a different “you” inside a mirror and touched it, you would switch places with that “you”, and be trapped in the world within the mirror while that “you” wandered free.Unfortunate, really, that all of Yuki’s troupe members touched those stupid mirrors at different points while he wasn’t looking. How the hell was he going to hide this from the rest of the dorm, anyway? And how was he going to bring the rest of the summer troupe back?
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Prince Florence/Rose, Rurikawa Yuki & Summer Troupe, Rurikawa Yuki/Sakisaka Muku
Comments: 112
Kudos: 176





	1. i. yuki

**Author's Note:**

> 'ryu you have so many unfinished fics' yes because my brain knows no breaks?
> 
> anyway i've had this wip in my docs for ages so now you get to be sentenced to it. you will deal with my mukuyuki brainrot forever.

It started like any other day.

Since the Winter and Spring troupes were doing practices that day for the new mixed play Tsuzuru had written for them, Izumi had decided that the Summer and Fall troupes could help out with cleaning the dorm and the theater along with other chores for a few hours. Of course, a lot of them had complained, but one look from Sakyo had silenced the lot of them, so they’d all been divided into pairs and spread out throughout the dorms and theater.

Yuki had been assigned to pair with Muku for this particular endeavor, and their task had been to check out the backstage and unused dressing rooms and clear out some more of the old boxes Matsukawa and the old troupes had lying around. Sure, it probably would’ve been a better idea to have sent people like Omi down there instead, but he’d already volunteered to be on window and wall cleaning duty with Misumi.

As of a few minutes ago, Yuki had been rummaging around a box he’d lowered with Muku’s help to ground level, trying to find anything to salvage. So far he hadn’t had any luck, so Muku had preemptively decided to go lower a few more boxes that had been stacked up higher than their heads. For Yuki, it wasn’t too much of a surprise to know that Muku was able to do such things, given that he’d done a  _ lot  _ of physical training (or tried to do so) to be the best ‘prince’ he could be.

_ CRASH! _

That did not sound good.

Yuki turns around to see Muku sneezing up a storm behind him, dust clouds billowing and parting to reveal his form better as he squints out at Yuki. Yuki raises an eyebrow at him. “What happened?”

“I-I almost slipped on a tarp and then rustled a lot of the stuff here, and then started up a dust cloud and started sneezing like the useless slip-n-sliding sneezelord that I am,” Muku rubs at his eyes before sneezing again. “Ah- no, sorry, I… I promised I wouldn’t spiral as much. I keep forgetting not to, like the brainless amoeba that I am-”

Yuki coughs loudly. “Muku. You’re doing it again.”

“AH! Sorry! I did it again! Aaaaah...” Muku apologizes, fidgeting with the edges of his sleeves before asking, “U-um, did you find anything interesting to bring back, Yuki?”

“Not really, no,” Yuki sighs as he blows a lock of hair away from his face. “It’s just junk, really. Broken props beyond repair, costumes that probably looked good in their prime but now just look like scraps that barely make a quilt… seriously, did Matsukawa just hoard all of these for no reason?”

Muku laughs softly, looking down to his left and lifting up a tarp. Yuki sees something like the broken edge of a sword peeking out. “It must have had good memories for him, you know. Sentimental value and all that, before we paid the debt thanks to the Winter troupe. Don’t you keep things for sentimental value too, Yuki?”

“Not  _ this  _ much,” Yuki gestures to the whole room they’re currently in with a huff. The sight makes Muku giggle slightly. “This amount of stuff just means that Matsukawa is a veritable  _ pack rat _ and that broken record parrot has been enabling him all these years. He’s almost as bad as the Trianglian and his horde of triangles!”

“Ah, fair point…”

“Still… there has to be something here,” Yuki muses, digging into a box and finding what looked to be remnants of a very nice double breasted coat. It wasn’t salvageable in the slightest, but the buttons,  _ oh,  _ the buttons Yuki could pilfer and reuse. They were  _ good  _ ones too… “I’ll take this side, you take the other side. Got it?”

“Mm-hm!”

With his back turned to Muku, Yuki hears Muku head the opposite direction from him to investigate more of the items and boxes under tarps, and he sighs, crouching low on the ground as he rummages around the box some more. He was thankful for Muku’s help - if he’d been alone in this cleanup, he would’ve probably never seen the dorms for another 48 hours with how much stuff was in it. Either that, or he’d have completely cleaned the area himself through the power of sheer spite for the past troupes’ inability to throw anything away.

Yuki faces the current box of interest, and braces himself. When he sticks his hand in again, he touches something like a dead lizard.

The box goes flying.

“Y-Yuki?!” Muku whirls around at the sound of the box hitting the nearest wall with a loud  _ thump _ . It falls to the ground, the objects inside rattling around. “What was that?!”

Yuki turns to face Muku. “I’m going to burn that box. Remind me later.”

“W-wha-?!”

* * *

“This looks like a pretty dress- ah! Yuki, this one’s still mostly intact! Maybe you can repurpose it somehow for a future play?”

“Describe it. I’m busy trying to figure out how to get this spider off of this jewelry box prop.”

“Um, it’s deep red and-  _ A SPIDER?! _ ”

“Ah. It’s gone now. Fuck.”

“T-THIS IS A REAL REASON FOR CONCERN YUKI-!!!”

* * *

By around the 2 hour mark, Yuki had managed to clear out three fourths of the room he was currently in and had managed to salvage quite the reasonable amount of buttons and other knick knacks from past props. These things he’d separated into an empty box he’d found lying around the place to take back to the room he shared with Tenma - the hack would have to deal with it until he’d sorted them all out properly.

_ Should be good enough for today. It’s about lunch time, anyway.  _ Yuki wipes the sweat off his brow before looking around. Muku had been oddly silent this entire time - in fact, he wasn’t even  _ in  _ the same area as he was anymore.  _ Did he go back? … No, probably not. So then…? _

“Muku?” Yuki calls.

No answer.

With a grumble, he stands up. “Muku? Where’d you go? Hello?”

No answer.

“If this is a prank, it’s a horrible one, Wonder Boy.”

Still no answer.

“... but if it was that good for nothing actor that put you up to this, I won’t blame you. I’ll beat him up myself for you as necessary!”

Silence.

Yuki’s initial irritation gives way into true concern and worry. Muku wasn’t the type to worry him like this - maybe he’d gotten trapped under a few boxes and couldn’t really shout back? It was definitely a possibility with how precarious most of the boxes there were stacked.  _ Ugh, that Matsukawa… I’m giving him an earful later- right after I find Muku. _

_ CRASH! _

That sounded like boxes toppling over.  _ Muku? _

Following where he’d heard the sound, Yuki eventually comes across what looked like a storage room for much larger props, judging from the tarps that were thrown all over much bigger silhouettes. Somewhere near the center, he sees a large box moving, rattling, whatever was in there being trapped thanks to the fact that more boxes had piled up on top of it. With a sigh, Yuki reaches up at the highest box and starts unstacking them, until finally he opens the large box at the bottom and-

Yuki stops. And then he stares.

That... hadn’t been what Muku had been wearing before.

“Ah, how dreadful, I’d been trapped in there for quite a while, so thank you… huh?” He blinks up at Yuki, bewildered. “... Rose?”

Yuki blinks back at Prince Florence, sitting haphazardly inside a box, and swears loudly. The prince, predictably, flinches at the curses that leave his mouth.


	2. ii. prince florence

“Wait, so… you’re  _ not  _ Rose?”

“No.”

They’d been sitting in that place for quite some time now - Yuki sitting on his heels, Florence crouching inside the box he’d been stuck in still. Yuki had requested (well,  _ demanded  _ might’ve been the better term) he stay there while they talked and he explained some things, and as a kindhearted prince he decided to fulfill the demand slash request.

Yuki still didn’t understand anything. This was clearly not Muku - he knew Muku by heart, from his smile, to his eyes, to his hair, and no, that was  _ perfectly  _ normal to know for very close friends, thank you very much. This person, he looked  _ like  _ Muku - they had the same face, same hair color, same eye color - , but he  _ wasn’t  _ Muku. He was by all means the Muku that had played Prince Florence in  _ The Floral Prince,  _ not  _ Muku  _ Muku.

That probably would make less sense if he’d said it out loud.

But if this was Prince Florence, where the  _ fuck  _ was Muku?

Florence frowns. “But you look exactly like the princess Rose… give or take. You’re definitely more masculine than her, now that I look closely. You’d pass off as her at first glance.”

“That’s because I’m a boy,” Yuki deadpans, watching as Florence’s expression flails between ‘connecting the dots’ and ‘not connecting shit’. “And furthermore, that would be because Rose was designed to be the role I played. That would be why she resembles me.”

“Role?”

“... Oh boy.” Yuki closes his eyes in thought before attempting to just go straight to the point, channeling Scheherazade briefly.  _ Better treat him as though he understands what you’re saying, anyway _ . “Your world is not a real one. It’s a world written by our troupe’s playwright, Tsuzuru Minagi, and the story of how you met Rose is something he penned himself.”

Florence blinks and cocks his head to the side. Because he shared Muku’s face, it was surprisingly adorable… not that Yuki would ever say that out loud. “Mi… na… gi?”

“That’s his last name. Anyway, now that we got that out of the way.  _ Where’s  _ **_Muku_ ** _?” _ Yuki’s tone suddenly turns icy cold as he goes to stand up and tower over the prince. He’d like to think that he looked menacing enough to an of-age prince that resembled his dear friend if he loomed over him in such a way. “If you’re here, something must have happened to him. You have something to do with it.”

“Muku… your dearest friend, who played… my role, right?” Judging from the look on his face, Yuki guesses that the thought of his entire life being nothing but a ‘play’ that other people acted out was still a rather sore subject for him.

“Yes. Where is he?”

Florence bites his lip. “I… don’t actually know, truth be told.”

“What.”

“Before I’d… come to this strange place, I’d been walking in the gardens with Rose and Broto not too far behind. Rose had stopped to check on some flowers she’d been raising and I’d wandered near the castle gardens’ fountain while waiting. That’s when I’d seen my reflection in the water.” Florence furrows his brow thoughtfully. “It’s strange. The reflection in the water… it was just as beautiful as me, but… truth be told, it hadn’t been wearing what I’m wearing now. It looked a lot like…” He looks up at Yuki. “A lot like what you’re wearing now, in fact. What  _ is  _ that, anyway?”

Yuki looks down at his clothes a little self-consciously. He’d elected to wear working shorts today thanks to the warning that they’d be handling dusty old items and cobwebs, and a shirt that was  _ cute  _ but he wouldn’t necessarily  _ miss  _ if it got ruined. “They’re clothes that belong in this world. Anyway, that’s off topic, what happened next?”

“I’d gone to stare at the me in the water, yes… but when I reached out to touch it, I fell into the water. When I realized what had happened, I was already here, and I’d stumbled and gotten trapped in this box, so… that’s all.”

Yuki frowns. That… wasn’t a lot to go off of, really.

_ BZZZT! BZZZT! _

Florence jumps as Yuki pulls out his phone at the vibrations. “What is  _ that?! _ ”

“A phone. Get used to it.” Yuki reads the text he’d just received and grimaces. “... Ah.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very happy ‘ah’, Rose.”

“ _ Yuki, _ ” Yuki stresses. “Yuki Rurikawa. Don’t forget that. I am not your princess or future queen or whatever, Florence. I am Yuki Rurikawa of the Summer Troupe of MANKAI company. And that text I’d just received is calling us-  _ me and  _ **_Muku,_ ** ” he corrects. “For lunch. Shit.”

Florence frowns again at the curse, but doesn’t comment. “And?”

“Well. Muku’s not fucking here, obviously.” Yuki gestures grandly to the room they’re in. “I can’t go back without him, and I can’t leave you here.”

Silence.

A lightbulb, coincidentally, lights itself above Yuki’s head. Florence had to admit that he did not enjoy this look on his face in the slightest.

“Floral wonder boy?” When Florence snaps to attention at the nickname, Yuki’s eyes turn sharp, like a cat’s. It’s rather feral. “You’re going to pose as Muku temporarily until we fix this.”

* * *

“Ah, Yuki, Muku, welcome back,” Tsumugi greets as Yuki leads Florence by the hand inside the dorms. “... Erm. Is there a reason why Muku’s got a large white cloth draped over his head and covering his entire body?”

“He kinda looks like when he played Sinbad!” Taichi comments. “Except he’s holding a box, not a vase.”

Yuki looks at Florence about to open his mouth and speaks over him, stopping the prince with a finger to his lips. “We thought it was about to rain.”

Tsumugi squints. “... It’s sunny outside?”

“We needed to protect the props,” Yuki thanked the fact that the summer troupe was so  _ good  _ at adlibbing as he gestures to the box Florence had tucked under his arm. As if to try and emphasize it, Florence rattles it slightly. “The ones that were still salvageable anyway. Anyway, we’re going to wash up before lunch. We’ll be back.”

“Ah-”

Yuki hauls Florence along hurriedly. A few moments later he thinks he hears Taichi ask Tsumugi, “Was it just me, or was Mucchan redder than usual while Yukkii was holding his hand?”

“It must have been very hot outside.”

* * *

“Out.”

Tenma looks up from his phone, offended. “What?”

“Out. Now.”

“What the- HEY! This is my room too, you brat!”

“Not anymore.”

* * *

When Kazunari opens the door to his room, he sees Tenma sitting on the ground in front of his door holding only his phone and a single pillow. “... Uh. Tenten? Why do you look like you’ve just been kicked out of your house?”

Tenma buries his face in his pillow. When Kazunari leans in closer, he thinks he hears something along the lines of ‘brat kicked me out of our room can I move in with you for a bit’.

“Well, uh. Mukkun’s not here, but I’m sure he won’t mind-” Kazunari barely manages to finish his sentence before Tenma tears past him and curls up on Muku’s bed. Weird. “Uh. Okay. You want me to talk to Yukki for you then?”

“I want my fucking bed back.”

“Yeah okay I’ll get that back for you.”

(Spoiler alert: he doesn’t get it back for Tenma. But at least he’d negotiated that Muku could trade places with Tenma for a night.)


	3. iii. round one

“What are you doing?” Florence asks him as Yuki rummages around his things. Now that they were safe in the room Yuki and Tenma shared, he’d been allowed to shed the cloth from his person, but he’d been forbidden from sitting on Tenma’s bed for a few minutes. Something about changing clothes first.

Yuki throws a shirt in his face. “Put this on.”

“Huh?”

“Put it on. You can’t walk around this place dressed like that.”

Florence peels the shirt off his face, looks down at himself, then looks back up at Yuki. “Why not?”

“You saw how everyone else outside was dressed? You’d stand out way too much if you wore  _ that  _ all day every day. People would  _ know  _ you aren’t Muku and we can’t have that.” With a sigh, Yuki pulls out a pair of knee-length shorts that would probably fit him before shutting the drawers. “Okay. Florence, listen to me. You’re not supposed to be here. We both know that. And Muku’s supposed to be here.”

“We don’t know where he is…?”

“Right. And that’s something the rest of the dorm doesn’t know about, and would probably cause major amounts of panic if they found out.” Yuki did  _ not  _ want to see Sakyo sending the entire fucking Autumn Troupe out to look for Muku like they’d done with Azami. Once was enough, thanks a lot. “But you? You’re here and Muku isn’t, when you’re a prince in your own world.  _ We  _ are going to figure this out together, and we’re going to bring you and Muku back to where you belong - him over here, and you back in your castle with your princess and retainer. Got that?”

Florence looks down at the shirt in his hands. Yuki faintly realizes the shirt is the one that says  _ ‘I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me’ _ on the front - a joke gift from Kazunari on April Fools’ day that he’d forgotten to bury inside his closet deep enough to never see again. “... I don’t even know how I got here. Can we really send me back?”

“...” Yuki sighs and stands up, facing the prince. For all his pre-written narcissistic tendencies, he seemed so  _ lost  _ right now. Briefly he wonders if Muku too was feeling lost, wherever he was. “We’ll get you back to Rose and Broto somehow. I promise you that. But for now, we need to pretend that everything’s fine and that there’s nothing to worry about, and that means convincing the Parent Squad outside that you’re Muku.”

“... How does Muku act?” Florence asks. “Surely since he looks like me, I don’t have to do much of an attitude change. He’s beautiful, after all.”

Yuki grimaces. “About that.”

It takes him a few minutes to explain the sense of crippling self-doubt the Hyodos and the Sakisakas in the dorm seem to be gripped with every now and then. Florence, strangely enough, is only genuinely confused.

“How odd. I’d have assumed he’d be more confident in himself with how beautiful he is.” Florence runs a hand through his hair, genuinely baffled. Yuki would have almost said it was endearing, except for the fact that it wasn’t Muku. Florence wasn’t Muku. He missed Muku already. “This does not make sense at all to me.”

Yuki sighs, sitting on his bed. “Yeah? Join the club. We’ve been trying to bolster his confidence for years. He’s definitely better than when we first started here in MANKAI, but every now and then he slips up.”

“Tell me more about Muku.” Pause. “... Please? I’d like to be able to… pass as him for you, for now. And that means I need to learn more about him.”

Yuki lets the ghost of a smile grace his face. “Later. We can take the rest of the day off, but first we need to get through lunch with the others first. You should go change into these, and then I’ll do all the talking. Okay?”

“... Okay.”

Yuki hands him the shorts, and then goes to pull out one of his looser dresses. It’s quiet in the room for a few minutes.

“... Yuki?”

“What.”

“Is this good?”

Yuki turns around. For a moment, he forgets that it’s Florence and not Muku that’s in the room with him right now, because in the clothes he’d lent him temporarily he looked just like Muku did - at least until he’d looked directly at his face.

“Hold on a second. You can’t wear the crown either, you know.” Yuki takes off the crown and takes the folded up princely garb before grouping them together and putting them all in his drawers. “We’ll keep them here in the meantime. We need to mess up your hair.”

Florence’s hands immediately dart up protectively to his hair.

“We  _ need  _ to mess with it a little. Muku’s hair is a little messier than-” At Florence’s expression, Yuki groans. “ _ Fine.  _ But if anyone asks why, this is on  _ you. _ ”

“I thought you were going to do all the talking.”

“For the most part. I don’t know if any of them will pick up on it, but you sound slightly different from Muku.” Yuki’s brow furrows in thought as he shrugs off his shirt and turns around before putting on the dress. “You can respond to Juza and Kumon as necessary. They’re Muku’s cousins - you’ll know them by the purple of their hair.”

Florence watches him, mystified, before he connects a few dots. “Purple hair? Like Broto?”

“ _ Yes, _ ” Yuki confirms, smoothing out the skirt of the dress before facing him again, combing his fingers through his hair. “Exactly like Broto. Kumon played Broto when we held the play, so you should be able to recognize him later. Are you ready? Do a turn for me.”

Florence holds out his arms and turns around. Everything looked to be in place, besides the fact that he’d refused to get his hair ruffled.  _ Ah. Well. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. _

“Good enough for now. Let’s roll.”

* * *

“So, I heard you got evicted, Tenma.”

At Izumi’s words, Tenma shoots a dirty look over at Yuki, who only ignores him as he eats his lunch. He’d made sure that he was sitting next to Florence for lunch in case they needed to explain anything, but apart from the sudden hairstyle change, nobody had really noticed anything strange. Which was a  _ relief,  _ but also made Yuki feel  _ slightly  _ irritated. Did  _ nobody  _ in this house actually have braincells and realize that one of their members was not who he seemed to be? Honestly.

Maybe he should just come out with it. Like, just admit that he was tugging around the prince of the country of flowers that should not even be a real person and then ask the rest of the people in the dorm for help in finding Muku. Maybe that’d make things much easier for everyone and he’d have Muku back before sundown.

… No. He could do this himself. He’d have Muku back by sundown. He didn’t need anyone worrying further when he was perfectly capable of dealing with this on his own.

Still, Florence had done a good job of acting as Muku, for the most part. He was no actor, but the benefit to Muku trying his best to be the best prince he could be was that he had amazing table manners - something that Florence had as well.

“I wasn’t aware we were doing roommate shuffling,” Tsuzuru notes.

Kazunari shakes his head. “We’re not shuffling. Yukki just kicked Tenten out for tonight, so he’s sleeping over in my room! Mukkun’s gonna stay over in Tenten’s place instead!”

“Ah, a sleepover then?” When Izumi turns her gaze to Florence and Yuki, Florence glances at Yuki briefly before they both nod. “You could’ve just asked Tenma to leave, you know.”

Yuki gives her a withering look. “I was going to kick him out forever, but Kazunari negotiated on his behalf because the hack decided sulking in Muku’s bed was better than actually doing anything himself.”

“OI!” Tenma shouts over Kumon’s muffled giggling. “You caught me off guard, that’s why!”

“And yet you still sent Kazunari over instead of facing me yourself. Honestly.”

“Tch-!”

“Is there a special occasion?” Azuma asks politely, somewhere to Izumi’s right. “Is Muku feeling under the weather or anything?”

Yuki watches as everyone’s eyes turn to Florence, who only smiles awkwardly at all of them. He hadn’t spoken a single word this whole time, which was  _ probably  _ not a red flag since Muku’s mind liked to fixate on whatever manga had captured his interest at the time, even during meals. He probably should’ve told Florence to look like he was thinking about something important.

“Mucchan?” Taichi asks curiously.

It takes a while before Florence realizes that Taichi had been referring to him. His gaze flickers to Yuki briefly as if asking permission before making a noise of acknowledgment. “Mm?”

“You okay?”

“... Mmhm.”

“Well. You don’t look or  _ sound  _ sick,” Tsumugi murmurs. His fingers drum against the table thoughtfully. “It shouldn’t be a problem if he wants to switch with Tenma for the night.”

Citron pipes up cheerfully, “Maybe they just really wanted to sleep together tonight!”

Silence.

Yuki knows they’re free to go when Azami’s face starts burning like a wildfire at Citron’s poor choice of words and Tsuzuru’s body is poised to throttle Citron for what was probably the hundredth or so time. He takes Florence by the hand the instant they finish, and he pulls him back into the room with him, the prince yelping in surprise at the sudden force.

_ Well. That probably sells his act a little more, at least. _

Kazunari watches all this happen with a curious look in his eyes before turning to Izumi. “Hey, director. Where’d you assign those two earlier this morning?”

“Hm? Yuki and Muku?”

“Yeah.”

“The backstage. Why?”

“No reason.”


	4. iv. suspicion

“Uwah-!”

Florence stumbles into the room ungracefully as Yuki briefly looks over his shoulder to double check if anyone was following them. When he’s sure nobody’s doing so, he faces Florence again.

“I’ve decided - we need to go back there,” Yuki says immediately upon shutting the door to his and Tenma’s room. “To the backstage. We need to investigate the area.”

Florence, attempting to regain his bearings, stumbles a bit. “Ah- I thought we were breaking?”

“We are - we can just say I forgot to get something from earlier there in the box we brought back,” Yuki glances at the box of recovered materials before looking back at Florence. “And in a sense I did forget something - Muku.”

The prince hums thoughtfully, rocking back and forth on his heels. It’s such a Muku-like gesture that Yuki’s thrown off for a moment. “Since I’m wearing this, I don’t need to wear the cloth over my head anymore when we go back there, right?”

“Of course not.” Yuki thinks about it for a moment before nodding. “We should wait until the others clear out of the living room and dining room areas to do whatever. Then we can head back. We need to check if there’s anything suspicious there that could tell us anything that could help.”

“I wonder… maybe there’s a special flower in that dusty old place that can take me back, just like when I was looking for a way to break Rose’s curse.”

“Ha? What makes you think flowers can grow in that place?!”

“It’s a possibility!”

“I didn’t even think you being here was a possibility in the first place-!”

* * *

“Are you guys looking for triangles?”

Tenma and Kazunari freeze, caught in the act of trying to listen in on Yuki and Muku’s conversation by their door. Misumi only peers over at them with a curious look, his head tilted to the side like an owl tilting its head at someone. When they don’t answer, he asks again, “What’re you guys doing here?”

“Shhhh!” Tenma hisses. “We’re trying to figure out what the fuck is up with those two.”

“Those two?”

Kazunari laughs. “Tenten’s talking about Yukki and Mukkun. Didn’t you notice that Mukkun didn’t say a single word during lunch?”

“He doesn’t speak when he’s thinking about a really triangular chapter of a manga though, right?” Misumi asks. “That’s Muku.”

Kazunari waggles a finger. “Ah, but see, that’s only if he’s spacing out. Mukkun wasn’t spacing out during lunch! In fact, he was acting on high alert, yeah? He kept looking to Yuki for cues!”

“They’re hiding something,” Tenma grumbles. “And as their leader I intend to make sure that if it’s a problem with any of us, they can tell us and we can solve it together.”

“You’re just salty that you got kicked out so suddenly,” Kazunari teases.

“So what?!”

“Ohhh. You’re wondering why you got kicked out?” Misumi asks. He grins. “Then we should just ask them!”

Tenma scoffs at the concept. “Like that Yuki will tell me anything. He just fucking threw me out for no good reason other than to talk with Muku, who he already talks to on like an hourly basis-”

In that exact moment, Yuki kicks the door open. The door slams in Tenma’s face - and only barely misses Kazunari thanks to his quicker reflexes.

“Or, you two could just go back to minding your own damn business and not eavesdrop like a bunch of idiots,” Yuki growls.

Kazunari blinks. “You heard us?”

“You two’re about as loud as the Delinquent Duo on a bad day.”

“Ah…”

Yuki feels Florence peering over his shoulder curiously at the mess as Kazunari bows his head and apologizes. Tenma grumbles, but does the same as well, bowing about as low as Kazunari does to emphasize that they were genuinely apologetic. Satisfied for the moment, Yuki turns to Misumi. “Oi. Trianglian. You were listening in on us as well?”

Misumi shakes his head. “Nah. I saw them and wondered what was going on, so I stopped. Now that they stopped too, I’m going back to look for more triangles. Bye~!”

They all blink. Suddenly, Misumi was no longer in front of them.

“You’d think that after three years we’d be used to that,” Tenma mutters, to the agreement of Kazunari and Yuki. Florence follows a heartbeat later, realizing that it was probably something Muku would have done as well. “Anyway. Can I get a better answer now on why you had to throw me out of the room?”

Yuki stares at him. “I wanted Muku to sleep over.”

“Th- wh-  _ then why didn’t you just-?! _ ” Tenma looked like he was five steps away from throwing a fit. “ _ I would’ve said yes!” _

“It was a time-sensitive occurrence. Won’t happen again.”

Tenma’s eye twitches, but before he can argue further, Kazunari puts a hand on his shoulder and drags Yuki’s focus to him. “So, Yukki, you guys are heading to the backstage again today?”

“Yeah. I forgot something there.” Yuki’s voice takes on a slightly defensive tone as he holds out a hand to Florence. “Muku’s coming with me because two pairs of hands are better than one.”

“We’ll come too!” Kazunari beams.

Yuki shuts that down with a pointed look. “No you’re not.”

“Eh?! Why not, Yukki?!”

“You don’t need four people to look for a single item,” Yuki deadpans. He knows he’s won when he sees Kazunari wince at that. “Having Muku there is good enough, thanks. Now if you’ll excuse us. Muku, come on.” Taking Florence’s hand, Yuki breezes past Kazunari and Tenma as fast as he can with a prince in tow - at least, until he crosses paths with Azami and Kumon, who raise an eyebrow at the sight of them.

Kumon’s the first to speak. “Muku! Where’re you going?”

“He’s going with me back to the backstage because I forgot something,” Yuki explains swiftly. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Azami raises an eyebrow. “What’s the rush?”

“They don’t want us following!” Tenma hollers from across the hall. Yuki curses under his breath before pulling Florence along a little faster, slamming the front door behind them the instant they’re outside the dorms.

Florence grimaces as he almost stumbles. “A-are you sure that was a good idea, R- Yuki?”

“Of course it was. Did you  _ want  _ to not speak the whole time we’re there?” Yuki sighs. “Come on. We don’t have all day.”

* * *

“Oh, that is  _ so  _ suspicious,” Kazunari mutters a little too eagerly for Tenma’s tastes. The summer troupe left behind (minus Misumi, who was wandering around) - and Azami - had decided to settle in the living room to discuss the odd behavior of two of their younger members. “Yukki specifically wanting  _ Mukkun  _ with him in the backstage and just Mukkun? None of the rest of us there?”

Azami rolls his eyes. “They’ve been going to the same school together for the past few years and are very close. You’d think it was obvious he’d prefer to be with Muku.”

“But we had a bonding moment! Sardine Search!”

“We all had bonding moments with each other,” Tenma corrects. “But still. It  _ is  _ weird that he was so insistent on it just being Muku with him.”

“Um…” Kumon fidgets, making everyone turn to him. “I just want to say. Uh. That I have something to admit.”

Kazunari smiles encouragingly at him. “Yeah? What is it, Kumopi?”

“It’s… d-don’t you think that there’s something strange with Muku in general?” At their questioning looks, Kumon sinks into his seat. “Muku didn’t say a word at all during lunch! And- it’s the vibes! It just- it doesn’t feel like Muku, which isn’t a good thing to say because that’s my cousin, but it just-”

“Whoever’s with Yuki right now, it isn’t Muku,” Azami points out. “That’s what he’s trying to say.”

“But… he looks like Muku…”

“No, it’s… now that you point it out, it’s strange, isn’t it?” Tenma rubs his chin in thought, brow furrowed. “Something  _ was  _ off with him, but most of us just thought it was the hair.”

“Yeah, Mukkun’s hair was pretty cool now that I think about it,” Kazunari ponders for a bit before gasping. “So then, this is a doppleganger with Yukki?! We need to save him!”

“M-more importantly though-! If that isn’t Muku…” Kumon’s eyes widen in worry. “Then where’s Muku?!”

* * *

“Found anything?”

“Nothing but boxes and cobwebs,” Florence reports before sneezing. “... And dust.”

Yuki groans.

They’d been searching for ten minutes now, and yet no progress had been made whatsoever. Florence had even tried retracing what ‘steps’ he remembered, but there didn’t seem to be anything of value that could help them at the moment. With a sigh, Yuki drops the tarp he’d been holding.

“Muku…” he mutters. “Where the hell did you even go?”


	5. v. muku

Had you been Muku a few hours ago, around the same time that Yuki had stumbled upon the lost prince Florence, you would have been sitting in what seemed to be a broom closet with none other than the future queen of the country of flowers, Rose, and the loyal retainer of the king, Broto, the two citizens of the floral country blocking the door to the broom closet with their bodies as they stare Muku down.

Quite frankly, Muku was spellbound. This was a scenario that only happened in his mangas, after all - being transported into another world so suddenly without warning, ah, it was _just_ like that manga where two girls ended up being transported into another world and eventually the main protagonist girl found love with a warrior who-

“Broto,” Rose whispers. “Is there anyone outside?”

Broto presses an ear to the door before shaking his head. With that confirmation, Rose stalks over to Muku, who yelps when the future queen basically _kabedons_ him to the wall. He would have reacted a lot more appropriately, but currently his brain was going through at least 4893 different scenarios he’d read about trying to figure out if there had ever been a princess doing the _kabedon_ and not the male protagonist.

He wasn’t coming up with anything.

“You’re not Florence,” Rose starts. “But you look like him, dressed in strange clothes. Who are you.”

 _Uwaaaa, so cool…!_ Muku’s face burns pink, unable to truly separate the images of Yuki and Rose from each other when Rose acted a _lot_ like the Yuki he knew. It… probably helped as well that he had a tiny crush on Yuki, but it was _super_ tiny. Nobody knew about. Absolutely no one besides himself. “U-um, I’m- I’m Muku Sakisaka! I’m not from this world, I’m from another one and I don’t know how I got here, so…” He shoves Rose away before bowing. “P-please take care of me!”

Silence.

When he looks up, he sees Broto boggling at him. Muku stifles a giggle at how the expression just further reminded him of his cousin as the retainer asks, “A stranger from another world?! Doesn’t that mean-”

“He’s not lying,” Rose notes. “But he’s still very suspicious. A stranger, coming out of nowhere and replacing the future king… people will talk if they find out.”

Muku wilts. “Ah, of course… they’ll talk about how much of an overcooked lettuce leaf I am, unable to even wrap a few crumbly bits of pork and be dipped in sauce… a mashed daikon radish like me is obviously not as good as the prince, even if I try my best to be as princely as I can be-”

“Those sound… kind of delicious,” Broto mutters.

Rose only shakes her head. “Muku, right? Here.” She holds out a hand, and the minute Muku takes it she pulls him up and gestures for Broto to come closer. When he does, she unclasps his cloak before draping it over Muku, covering up his more modern-world attire. “You look enough like Florence that if we fixed your hair a little you could pass as him, but we don’t have his clothes on hand right now, so we need to get you up to our room safely to get you a temporary change of clothes.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Pause. “... W-wait… _o-ou-our r-”_

“Well. Florence and I _are_ going to be wed soon. If it eases your mind, we’ve been sleeping with a bolster between us until the actual wedding,” Rose’s teasing smirk is one that Muku’s seen on Yuki before, making his cheeks blush even redder. “Besides. Hopefully we’ll get the prince back home and _you_ back home as well _before_ the sun sets, so you needn’t think about that. Push comes to shove, I’ll sleep on the chaise.”

It’s Broto who protests first. “But, milady-!”

“It’s a what-if scenario, Broto. We’ll be fine. Now come on,” Rose raises a hand to Muku’s hair and carefully parts it, attempting to mimic Florence’s normal hair. “It’s messy, but it’s a close approximation for now. We need to go.”

Broto steps back towards the door, turning the knob and opening the door. Muku’s only given a few moments to react before Rose tightens her hold on his hand and pulls him along, the loyal retainer briskly leading the way back to the future royals’ shared quarters. As they walk, Muku allows himself to indulge and gawk at the tall glass windows that seemed to line the walls of the castle that faced the gardens, and at the paintings and flowers that twisted and curled around the pillars and walls of the inner castle.

He faintly remembers Kazunari making a mockup sketch of scenes like the one he was currently viewing in his old sketchbook, the older boy seated next to the Tsuzuru who’d been knocked out cold after writing up the script for the Summer Troupe that year. A lot of the designs he’d drawn out hadn’t made it into the actual play itself, since Tetsuro could only do so much, but now Muku was seeing them in full color in this reality he was currently in - the world that Kazunari and Tsuzuru had crafted together, in words and in pictures.

“Impressed?” Rose asks him, prompting him to look at her. The queen-to-be seemed to be looking at him with some sort of affection as she says, “I wasn’t impressed at first myself, but it takes a lot of magic to be able to raise beautiful flowers like this country does, and to be able to build a castle around the plants instead of destroying them… that I can appreciate wholeheartedly.”

Muku, rosy cheeked, grins back at her. They ascend the staircase as he says, “It’s everything I’d ever dreamed of… I’d only ever seen this castle in pictures drawn by my friend, and now it’s actually real... “

“You’ve seen this castle before?”

“Mm-hmm,” Muku nods as Broto scouts ahead for any other people before gesturing for them to proceed. Rose pulls him into a large bedroom as Broto shuts the door behind him. “It’s- well. This world isn’t _real_ in my world.”

Broto stares, wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”

“Like, this world… it’s a story my friend Tsuzuru came up with,” Muku explains, fiddling with his fingers nervously. At their confused stares, he clarifies, “He’s- he’s a playwright, in charge of writing the scripts for the acting troupes in our company! Your world is part of the world of _The Floral Prince_.”

Rose hums. “Referring to Florence, I’m assuming?”

“... You’re an actor?” Broto asks skeptically.

“Yeah.” Muku nods at both of the questions before scratching the back of his neck. “I-In my world, I was cast to play as Prince Florence. My friend, Yuki, he played you, a-and my cousin Kumon played Broto-”

“ _He?_ ” Rose asks. At Muku’s nod, she settles back, thinking. “... He must be rather feminine looking if he played me.”

He _was -_ when they were still in middle school. Now that they were in high school, Yuki’s features had sharpened slightly - not enough that he was no longer as feminine as he used to look, but enough that you didn’t have to think thrice that he was a boy in girl’s clothing. Just twice. His eyes were sharper, his shoulders only slightly broader, but his voice and sharp wit had remained mostly the same still - which was a relief to Muku, because he wasn’t sure how he’d feel if Yuki had suddenly started sounding like… Sakyo or something.

Now there was a thought. Yuki sounding like Sakyo. The thought makes him grimace internally.

“He’s beautiful,” Muku says honestly, making Rose look at him in mild surprise. “Like… you’re technically a role that Tsuzuru wrote for Yuki, so you… you look a lot like him. And he’s beautiful.”

The corner of Rose’s mouth quirks up. “This is a very roundabout way of calling me beautiful, little prince.”

“L-little prince?!” Muku’s hands fly up to his face, already anticipating the burn. He’d been called ‘little prince’ before, definitely, but it never got any less embarrassing. “Aah- aaaaaaah-! You’re calling me a little prince when I’m not even close to the kind of princeliness that Prince Florence must be-”

Muku stops when he hears the hearty, unfeminine cackle of Rose and the good-natured sniggers of Broto. He does, however, blush a little more when Rose pinches his cheek - an action most familiar, since Yuki had done it to him once. “You really are cute, aren’t you? Different from Florence, but in a good way.”

“If I might say so, he has more braincells than milord,” Broto jokes, prompting Rose to cackle again. “But shouldn’t we get to dressing him up now?”

“Ah. Right. Broto, come on. You know how his majesty’s closet works - you help him.”

Muku blinks at her owlishly. “What about you?”

“I’m going to head over to the library,” Rose dusts off her shoulders before nodding at him. “There’s a chance that they could have books on this phenomenon, and I’m going to do research. When Broto’s done dressing you, both of you meet me in the library’s west wing. Understood?”

“Y-yes!”

“Right away! C’mon… Muku, right?” At Muku’s nod, Broto beams in a very Kumon-like way. “This might take a while, so you can sit on Prince Florence’s bed in the meantime.”


	6. vi. princelike activity

Muku remembers the feeling of this costume. Remembers every stitch, every clasp, every fold of fabric that Yuki had worked so hard on for him to be the best prince he can be. Even now as Broto attempts to tame his hair he remembers the way Azami had tried to do his makeup, chastising him every time he’d smiled before he’d been able to apply the right amount of foundation because it ruined his base.

His fingers dance across the golden buttons on his vest. Yuki had done an amazing job on the costume… and it was definitely reflected here in this fantasy world he’d never even  _ dreamed  _ he’d find himself in. Muku knew it wasn’t the same costume in his head, yet the clothes that Broto had pulled out of Florence’s closet felt exactly like the ones Yuki had made. They were comfortable, familiar - it eased Muku’s worries.

“Well, I really can’t figure out your hair,” Broto sighs when he backs away. “This is the closest I can get, but they  _ might  _ wonder why your hair’s a little more tousled than necessary.”

Muku looks at himself in Florence’s bedroom mirror. He doesn’t see Prince Florence - no, he sees Muku, dressed in Florence’s finery. It wasn’t like when he’d touched the mirror earlier - this one, he knew was definitely his reflection, and not someone else entirely.

“... Thank you, Broto,” Muku dips his head in gratitude. “I can pretend to be Florence… I think. Even a yellow-bellied worm like me can be as princelike as I can be in these circumstances… it’s hard not to, when you’re dressed like this.”

Broto scratches his cheek. “You really are different from milord, huh?”

“Ah… i-is it the fact that I’m not as princely?”

“No, it’s… you keep putting yourself down over the slightest things, which is strange because they’re not true at all. Milord? He’s very proud of himself,” Broto explains, waving a hand around. “He takes pride in the fact that he’s beautiful, and milord is naive, but good-hearted. His parents loved him so much, after all, as their only child. Milady Rose decided to marry him because he needed an intelligent wife like herself.”

Muku hums in consideration, checking his sleeves. “... Does Rose love him?”

“Shouldn’t you know? We’re the story in your world, right?”

“Well, yeah, but… the play ended with Rose deciding to marry Florence because she was smart and he needed someone to watch out for him,” Muku admits. “And I don’t know if Tsuzuru and Kazunari ever developed that any further for extra reading material.”

Broto closes his eyes briefly in thought. “If we were modeled with people in your world in mind, maybe you can answer this yourself.”

“You’re the cryptic kind of person, huh…?” Muku sighs, making Broto laugh. “Not like Kumon. He’s my cousin - he’s a lot like me.”

Broto perks up at that. “Can you tell me more about him as we meet with milady in the library?”

“Sure!”

* * *

By the time they reach the library, Muku’s treated to the sight of a library akin to that of the one he’d seen in Disney’s interpretation of  _ Beauty and the Beast _ \- and is treated as well to the sight of a rolling ladder zipping past him, wheels rattling noisily as it goes. When he looks up, he sees a blur of carnation pink blaze by, only coming to a stop when the ladder stops, and  _ maybe  _ it should’ve been obvious to him that it was Rose up there because he honestly hadn’t seen anyone else in the library… or in the castle, now that he thought about it. Or maybe nobody frequented the library.

She’d changed out of the grandiose gown she’d been wearing earlier when she’d found him in the fountain, opting instead for a carnation pink one that seemed much easier to move around in, with poofy sleeves ending right at her elbows and a blue ribbon around her waist. Her extravagant tiara too had been traded in for a much simpler one that looked more like an overglorified headband. It did nothing to detract from the vision of loveliness that she was, but it did deeply remind Muku of Yuki - a thought that makes his chest ache as he watches Rose muttering to herself while scrolling through book titles.

“Lady Rose!” Broto calls out. His voice echoes a little with how big the library is.

Rose pauses in her searching to glance down at them, and with a smile she hikes up her skirts and traipses down the ladder. “Broto. Muku. You clean up nicely, little prince.”

Muku’s ears turn a little pinker. “T-thank you?”

“Any luck?” Broto asks the princess, who sighs. “I’m guessing not.”

“So far, I’ve found around five books that might help, but even they’re a stretch, truth be told,” Rose points towards one of the tables near the center of the library itself, where a pile of books was stacked up. “You can start reading them if you’d like. I’ll be roaming around the rest of the library for more just in case.”

Muku looks up to the ceiling. It’s stained glass, and vines were crawling all around and all over, dotted with beautiful flowers. “Can I. Um. Explore the library too later? After we read through those books?”

“Of course. But don’t leave Broto’s side. It’s easy to get lost in here.”

Broto tugs on Muku’s wrist, pulling him along to sit at the tables before he pulls off the first book on the stack. “ _ ‘Magicks of the Royal Bloodline’.  _ We had this as a book?”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m always by Florence’s side, and he likes to be outside with his horse, taking care of her and admiring the flowers and the outside world. He lets me bring as many books as I can carry whenever we’re setting out, but…” Broto grins sheepishly. “I can’t ever carry more than three. It’s too heavy otherwise. So no, I don’t know all the books in the library.”

“Ah… makes sense. That, and it’s way too big here…” Muku sighs dreamily. “It really is like a fairytale come true…”

“We probably do feel like a fairytale, huh?” Broto muses as he props open the book. “Based on the fact that your clothes looked so  _ strange  _ in comparison, anyway. I wasn’t even aware pants could go that high.”

Muku’s cheeks turn pink as he tugs on the second book in the stack and reads the title, trying to hide the fact that he was embarrassed. “T-they’re modern clothing! They’re not pants, they’re shorts!”

“P. Pantaloons?”

“ _ Shorts! _ ”

“Shorts because they’re short p-  _ ah.  _ Now I’ve seen everything. ‘Modern’ clothing or not, they’re weird,” Broto laughs before turning his gaze back to the book. Meanwhile, Muku props open the book in his own hands -  _ The Grimoire for the Morally Dubious Witch and Wizard -  _ and scans the contents.

* * *

“Did you know that if you take the blood of a newborn foal from the first wound it’s ever received and streaked it against the posts of your stables on the fifth day of the fifth month, you’d be able to bless your stable for five months by setting up a magical barrier that forces thieves to lose a finger each time they attempt to enter?” Broto looks down at his book. “That’s what it says in  _ Warding Charms and Protective Talismans _ , anyway.”

Muku nearly throws his book at Broto when he flinches.

“Hey! I’m just reading what I see!”

“D-did  _ not _ need to hear that!”

* * *

By around the fiftieth time his eyes read the line  _ ‘gather minced mushrooms from a confirmed fairy ring _ ’ in  _ The Fae Folklore _ , Muku’s just about ready to collapse with how tired he’d gotten. This was completely unlike reading manga - those had pictures and stories to tell in sequence. While the books that Rose had ended up piling for research were interesting, there were only so many words even Muku could read in one go. Broto still seemed to be upright, judging from how Muku could still hear pages turning, but even that sounded a little more sluggish now.

_ SLAM! _

Both Muku and Broto jump as Rose puts down another three books before sitting down in the chair across from them. The princess looked to be frustrated as she props open the first book, muttering to herself.

It’s Muku who first speaks up, however. “Um… Princess Rose?”

“A whole fourth of the library. A whole fourth, and  _ nothing  _ seems to be of value.” Rose growls, mostly to herself. She sounded very much like Yuki whenever the sewing machine started to give in a few days before a performance - something that makes his heart squeeze. “We’re going to have to continue the search tomorrow, little prince. I’m sorry, but you’re not going home tonight.”

Muku’s heart stops for a moment. He wasn’t going home yet? It was a  _ great  _ opportunity to stick around but- but he’d really been hoping to go home and tell everyone else about the day he spent in the world of  _ The Floral Prince _ immediately.

_ Well,  _ Muku muses internally.  _ I guess most mangas and animes had them stay more than one day in the other world… w-wait, but… but what if it took more than a few days?  _ His eyes widen in dawning horror.  _ What if it took weeks? Months? What if seasons come and go and I age in this place but time doesn’t pass in the other world and when I come back I’m already older than Juchan and I’m going to have to move out of the dorms and get a job and I haven’t even  _ **_graduated from St. Flora yet and-_ **

“We can figure this out! Don’t worry!” Broto assures him. He must have looked horrified at the prospect of staying a little longer than usual if the retainer had thought to tell him such. “Tomorrow we can continue the search after lunch again, and-”

“Wh- why after lunch?”

Rose balks at the reminder. “... Florence had a schedule in the mornings that he follows to the letter. If that’s disrupted, his parents will think something is wrong, and we’ll all be found out immediately. At worst, you’re going to go on trial and be executed for impersonating Florence.”

“... oh.” Muku squeaks. Suddenly the clothes he was wearing seemed like they were suffocating him.

“Meanwhile, we’re probably going to be erased from history for assisting an impostor,” Broto says thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “I’m probably going to get burned off the family tree for my disgraceful actions and then proceed to be removed in all wills and testaments, maybe get exiled somewhere and be left to die. Milady’s country is probably going to go to war with this country and everyone else is going to be asked to choose sides - and then she’s probably going to get burned at the stake.”

“ _ Broto!  _ You’re scaring him!”

_ “...  _ **_oh._ ** ” Muku’s voice gets even  _ squeakier  _ at the thought as he sinks into his chair.

Rose massages her temples before reaching over to pat Muku’s hand in what he thinks is her form of reassuring. “That’s not going to happen, little prince. You are, after all, being assisted by Broto, one of if not  _ the  _ best royal retainers in the country. And don’t forget, the person you’re currently posing as is engaged to someone incredibly clever.” She winks at him, and Muku’s stomach does a backflip. “Things will turn out alright. You just have to believe in yourself, and in everyone else.”

_ You just have to believe in yourself, and in everyone else. _

Muku’s heart warms. “... Okay.”


	7. vii. concern

If you’d asked Kazunari what his plans had been for that afternoon, well, there was probably a high chance he wouldn’t have answered ‘sneaking after two of the members of my troupe doing some shady stuff in the theater’ first. There was a much higher chance he would’ve answered ‘working on a new project’, ‘hanging out with some friends he chatted up on LIME for the afternoon’, or ‘sleeping in’.

Except none of those were on the agenda for the day, apparently.

If it was obvious that they were about to go follow their two youngest members of the troupe around, well, nobody commented on it. Tasuku had raised an eyebrow, definitely, when he saw Tenma leading the charge towards the front door, but he didn’t really bother to ask the moment he saw Kumon trying to imitate a ninja while ‘sneaking out’.

Quotation marks included.

Presently, the four of them - him, Tenma, Kumon, and Misumi (Azami had opted to stay behind) - were standing in front of the theater and  _ probably  _ looking terribly suspicious to any passerby on Veludo Way. Unless they knew them, of course. They  _ did  _ walk around distributing flyers every now and then for any of the new plays.

“Maybe they’re really just looking for something Yuki dropped,” Misumi says. “You know. We should trust them.”

Tenma sighs in mild frustration, running a hand through his hair. “We’re already here, anyway. Might as well help them look.”

“Well, I don’t trust that guy with Yuki!” Kumon declares boldly. Kazunari bets that he’s at  _ least  _ 65% anxious though. “He’s not my cousin - he could be fooling Yuki and luring him into a trap!”

Misumi puffs out his cheeks, frowning. “Ehhh? He seemed like a good person. He’s not Muku, but he feels like Muku. We should have faith in Yuki knowing what he’s doing.”

“...” Kazunari rubs his chin thoughtfully before shrugging. “Well, we won’t be getting anywhere just standing here. Let’s head on in!”

All four of them try and step through the doors at the same time.

Predictably, it’s a stupid idea. They all get stuck in the doorway for a few moments struggling before landing in a tangled heap with a loud ‘oomf’, with Tenma at the bottom of the accidental dogpile.

“Hey, we make a triangle around Tenma!” Misumi declares giddily. “Triangle troupe, triangle troupe~!”

Tenma says something in response, but it’s muffled due to the fact that he’s being squashed under three of his troupe members at once. When they do eventually get off of him - which takes around three minutes, give or take - , he allows himself to be pulled back up on his feet by Kumon before dusting himself off.

“So what were you saying, Tenten?” Kazunari asks.

Tenma opens his mouth before closing it again, furrowing his brow. “... Never mind. Kumon, Misumi, you come in from the left side of the stage. Kazunari, right side with me.”

“Wait, what are you trying to do?”

“It’ll be easier to find them if we split up,” Tenma explains, waving a hand around. “And it’ll also be easier for us to catch Not-Muku if he tries to run, obviously, when we go and ask some questions.”

Misumi sticks out his tongue a little, brow furrowed in thought. “I thought we were going to help Yuki look for his lost thing.”

“ _ You  _ said that. We’re not even sure if he was lying about  _ that. _ ” Tenma throws up his hands in mild, but fond exasperation. “If they really  _ are  _ looking for something? Great! But Kumon says it’s not Muku with him, so we still have to ask if Yuki knows that, because we need to know where Muku is, and of course the brat’s going to worry.”

Kazunari lets a cheeky grin cross his face. “Aww. Tenten, you  _ do  _ care about Yuki and Muku.”

“W-well, they’re part of our troupe, you know?” Kazunari takes delight in the fact that Tenma’s steadily getting redder in the face with embarrassment.  _ Ah, sweet Tenten, you tsuntsun.  _ “And as their leader, I have to be responsible for them. Such is the task of a leader.”

“And someone who ca-ares~!” Kazunari singsongs.

Tenma punches him in the arm for that, but he’s smiling.

* * *

“Okay, run that by me again.”

“Must I really be in the box when I’m doing so?”

“Yes.”

Florence goes to sit in the large box. It’s a silly image, considering that he was a prince in what was basically commoner’s clothing sitting in a box in a dusty old room. But quite frankly, Yuki was in no mood to laugh - not when they weren’t getting  _ anywhere.  _ He snaps his fingers, and Florence immediately gets out of the box, trying to retrace to the best of his ability how he’d ended up in the box - and in this world in the first place. By around the fifth time Yuki makes him wobble back and forth around a precarious pile of boxes, Florence drops to the floor with a loud ‘oomf’, stirring up dust that makes both of them cough.

“God damn it,” Yuki curses, waving his hand to chase away the tiny dust clouds that had decided he was their new favorite person. “We’re really getting nowhere.”

Florence frowns. “I’m sorry, Yuki.”

“N… no, no, don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize, you literally didn’t do anything as far as I’m concerned.” Yuki pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, sighing through his teeth. “This really isn’t my forte.”

“What is?”

“Magical things. World-hopping things.  _ This  _ sort of thing, basically. That’s always been Muku’s thing. He reads shoujo manga, you know - wait, I guess you wouldn’t know what that is, huh?” Yuki sits on one of the bigger crates in the room, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his palm. “Either way, what I’m saying is that Muku would’ve known what to do better than me. He’s more genre savvy when it comes to fantasy.”

Florence blinks at him in mild confusion. “What’s your forte?”

“... Clothes. I sew clothes. Design them too.” Yuki lets the ghost of a smile grace his face. “I’m the one who designed your clothes and brought them to existence onstage. Rose and Broto’s too, as well as the other princes.”

“Wow,” Florence murmurs, genuinely in awe. He gives Yuki a look of earnest admiration, eyes sparkling. “You’ve really got an eye for delicate needlework. It takes a very steady hand to be able to design clothes just like that… did you take lessons for it? Tutors?”

“Designing or sewing?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“Started out as a self-taught person, really. I took a trial lesson at a fashion college once, and during that time as well I participated as a lead actor in a play Tsuzuru wrote that was about fashion, which made me do a lot of heavy research on the fashion industry. Otherwise, it’s a hobby. An expensive one, but a hobby nonetheless.”

“A  _ hobby! _ ”

“Oi. Why do you sound so surprised about that?”

Yuki watches as the prince fidgets before drawing his knees up to his chest, hugging them. “... It just seems like you’d be set for life if this was your chosen job… oh,” he corrects himself, scratching at his cheek. “Right. You’re the costume designer for… MANKAI, right? It’s basically your job.”

“Yeah. I  _ am  _ considering choosing fashion as my eventual course, but I’m not going to give up on acting yet alongside that.”  _ It’s too important to me as well. _

“And acting too on top of that… you and Rose are incredibly similar, being multitalented...” Florence sighs dreamily, and Yuki is once more reminded of the similarities between Florence and Muku in the way that he looks like he’s lost in another world.

_ Well,  _ Yuki muses to himself in his head.  _ He  _ **_is_ ** _ technically lost in another world. Both of them are. _

“Did you know she’s done more for the castle library in terms of organization in three hours than the archivists have in years?” Florence begins counting off on his fingers as he speaks. “She’s basically streamlined a lot of the tasks in the castle for the staff so that they’re easier and more enjoyable for them. She’s incredibly inventive!”

Yuki snorts. “Well. Tsuzuru  _ did  _ write her as an intelligent and wise person.”

“Broto and I are lucky to have her,” he says earnestly, lacing his fingers together as he adjusts and goes to sit cross-legged. To Yuki it’s quite the sight, seeing literal royalty sitting on a dusty old floor sighing in yearning for the princess and retainer he’d accidentally left behind. “She didn’t have to agree to marry me - even if it would have united our kingdoms. I’m not exactly the sharpest sword in the armory, after all. Even now I don’t know much about how dangerous the world really is.”

Yuki leans on his thigh with an arm, cupping his own cheek with a hand. “Tsuzuru wrote you to be naive, after all. A little prideful because of your appearance, but kind hearted, and naive. A prince that could stand to grow a little more with time.” He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “Everyone learns over time, after all. You don’t need to worry.”

“... I hope they’re doing alright over there,” Florence says eventually after a few minutes, sighing.

Yuki sighs along with him. “... Yeah.”


	8. viii. adventure, again?

Kuro was _not_ having a good day.

To be exact, the day had started out… normally enough. He’d woken up at a fairly reasonable hour for a cat - that is, in the middle of the day - to get some proper stretching and exercise done before Shiro had woken up, loosening his limbs enough in order for him to be able to scale higher trees and cliffs if need be. This was more so a precautionary measure that had evolved into habit, mainly because Shiro had the _impeccable_ ability to find himself in the worst places for a cat to be found in. Namely, high cliffs and tall trees.

He _still_ doesn’t know how Shiro does it. Sure, he knew Shiro was growing up, which meant he was of course getting sharper claws and longer limbs and longer reach. He knew that inevitably meant that Shiro would go around exploring whatever it was he could get his curious paws on, and that included climbing up so many dangerous places. But that _didn’t_ mean Shiro necessarily knew how to _climb back down._

Honestly, the nerve of that kit sometimes. He’d be angrier about it, but...

“Brooding in the shade again? I knew you weren’t as playful as Shiro, but this is fairly new.”

Kuro is barely given a moment to blink before the familiar form of Nora drops down from a tree next to him. Nora used to be as big as Shiro - in terms of height, that is. He’d always been a lot more muscular than soft Shiro - though it was more lean muscle -, but it was definitely more pronounced now that they were older. He was nearly as tall as Kuro now.

Kuro laughs dryly. “Brooding? Is that what Shiro’s calling it now?”

“Well, I mean, if you’re just going to sit here and sulk in the shade instead of playing in the sun with Mikke and Tama, then yeah.” Nora’s tail swishes and clears out a spot for himself on the grass next to Shiro as he stretches. “I, purrsonally, would very much like the shade right now myself to take a little catnap, seeing as that I just came back from a rather long trip.”

Kuro’s ears perk up. “Right, right, how was your recent trip, by the way?”

“Mm, it was…” Nora yawns, rolling over on his back onto the grass. In a state like this, it was hard to forget that Nora was a rough-n’-tumble kind of cat. He just looked incredibly relaxed right now. “... really good. I got to visit a land of magic as a stopover point for our ship.”

“MAGIC?!”

Nora’s peaceful drift into blissful slumber is interrupted by the equivalent of a punch to the gut - that is, Shiro somehow hearing him mention magic and pouncing on his stomach. His goggles go askew as Shiro drums on his stomach. “Magic magic magic magic!”

“Shiro, you shouldn’t just _wake_ people like that!” Kuro scolds, tail slapping the ground as he chastises his younger brother. Er. Younger brother figure. Sometimes it was easy to forget they weren’t really related when he’d been looking out for Shiro’s wellbeing for so long.

Nora laughs, gently moving Shiro away as he sits up. Mikke and Tama, who’d been playing with Shiro in the fields nearby, approach them curiously as Nora says, “It’s alright. Shiro’s just curious, aren’t you?”

“You went to a land of MAGIC!” Shiro repeats. It’s rather endearing to see him so excited. “Nora, you have to tell me-ow’ll about it! Please please please please please?”

“How did you even _hear_ him all the way over there?” Kuro wonders out loud as Nora goes to draw himself into a cross legged position. “Usually when you’re playing your ears are so stuffed with fluff you can’t hear me when I call you.”

Shiro’s ear flicks at him. “That’s because I don’t listen to mew sometimes.”

“Hey-!”

“You should listen to Kuro at least sometimes, you know,” Nora ruffles the hair on Shiro’s head affectionately. Shiro bats his hand away with a whine as the traveler gestures with his tail for Mikke and Tama to draw closer. “So… the land of magic.”

Tama wiggles his haunches at the idea. “You told us about magic before, nya. With someone who could make flowers change colors?”

“That’s right.” Nora nods.

“If that’s a magic land, then…” Tama’s eyes sparkle. “Is there someone there who make sardines from their bare paws?”

“I WANNA GO THERE!” Shiro yowls excitedly. Kuro bops him lightly on the head for it. “Nyaaoooww! Kuro! What was that for?!”

“You keep asking Nora to tell a story but you won’t let him talk!”

Nora laughs heartily. “There’s probably someone who can do that in that land, but I didn’t meet them. It was only a stopover, after all. I did, however, get something while I was there.”

The cats watch as Nora rummages around his pockets before producing a small trinket on the end of a golden chain. It’s a small glass bottle, nothing of note - save for the thing that seemed to be glowing inside of it.

“Tama! Don’t eat that!” Mikke yanks on his brother’s tail when the other cat opens his mouth as if to bite on the trinket.

Tama hisses. “I wasn’t _going_ to!”

“What’s that thing?” Shiro asks excitedly. He’s practically _vibrating_ in place from where Kuro could see him - which was something that Kuro had expected out of him, really. Ever since their adventure for the mythical sardines, he’d been itching for an adventure every other _day_. Which was fine, mind you - Nora after all was a traveling cat himself.

But Kuro wasn’t exactly keen on letting Shiro travel on his own like Nora did. Shiro wasn’t a wayward vagabond like Nora was, never content to stay in one place for far too long. Nora had a wanderlust unmatched by any cat Kuro had ever met - but if Nora’s stories were anything to go by, there were those whose desire for travel surpassed even his.

Kuro had never strayed too far, after all, from where they lived. The search for sardines had been one of the farthest and longest times he’d ever gone from their hometown. He was doing better than Mikke and Tama in that he’d known places _other_ than his home, but in the end…

Nora chuckles, unsheathing one claw and gently tapping on the glass bottle. “It’s a firefly. You know the ones we cats like to chase in the dusk in the fields?”

“The… little stars?” Mikke asks warily.

The corner of Nora’s mouth curls up in a half smile. “They’re a lot like stars, but they’re not stars. They twinkle and shine like them, but we cannot reach stars.”

“I’m going to go to the skies and get a star.” Shiro decides.

Kuro’s tail thrashes. “You can’t even fly!”

“How do _you_ nyow that?!”

“You’re not a bird!”

Nora’s hearty laughter interrupts their short argument as he adjusts the goggles on his head, untucking an ear that had gotten folded as he had been speaking. “You two haven’t changed that much from our last big adventure, have you? No, you can’t reach the stars, Shiro - but this firefly can help us find something close to a star.”

Kuro’s pupils slit as his eyes narrow. “Nora, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Nora asks innocently. “I didn’t buy this firefly that leads to a special treasure. It was given to me before we set sail for Mewford Town as a good luck charm by one of the sailors.”

Oh, that _Nora._

Shiro’s and Tama’s eyes had gotten so big, they were practically dinner plates. It’s Tama who speaks up first, however. “Special treasure?!”

“It might not be a star, or anything we can bring back home,” Nora warns. “But it’s a treasure to keep close to our hearts when we find-”

Shiro, with one claw, excitedly pries open the bottle while Nora speaks. They all freeze as the firefly wanders around their faces lazily before escaping to Nora’s left - seemingly making a beeline for escape.

“After it!” Shiro yowls, already bounding after the firefly.

“Wait! Shiro!” Kuro stumbles to his feet as Tama giggles and runs after Shiro himself. Mikke is hot on his tail, yelling at him to come back as well. Kuro turns to Nora and gives him a dirty look. “Great. Now look what you did. Shiro’s going off on another adventure.”

Nora shrugs lazily. “Adventure is the spice of life, Kuro. But I suppose you don’t want to hear that from meow, of course.”

“Duh.”

“Either way, we need to hurry after them. Mikke can’t drag both of them back here, after all.” Nora closes the bottle again before stretching a few limbs. “Ah, how I’ve missed a chase.”

“Shiro isn’t a mouse.” Kuro reminds.

Nora winks back at him. “Oh, I know. But he’s just as hard and fun to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the inherent amount of self control i had to exert to not to use all the cat puns i have acquired over the years nearly destroyed me because everything was going to become so UNREADABLE


	9. ix. kuro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry braincells empty i've been on twitter @ryukogo_art just thinking mukuyuki and juban thoughts if you wanna yell at me for this shitpost of a fic

The backstage and unused dressing rooms, Kazunari decides, seriously needed to be cleared out a little more.

To be perfectly clear, he’d peeked at these rooms before, trying to look for a prop Matsukawa had mentioned to be  _ somewhere  _ in there that they could reuse or refurbish into a better one. He’d also peeked into these rooms before just for fun, to poke around and maybe unlock a secret of the universe and catch it on camera with Muku. Or find a ghost haunting the theater and then probably get Tsuzuru to write a play about ghosts. You know, fun things to do with friends!

But now that they were looking for Yuki and Not-Muku - and anything that looked out of place or looked like something Yuki had dropped -, it was becoming increasingly apparent that this place was a  _ danger  _ zone of hazards and-

“AAAAH-CHOO!”

\- and things that would set off allergies everywhere.

Kazunari turns his head to the side, muffling a snicker. “You okay, Tenten?”

“Yeah-” Tenma sneezes again, much louder this time, and Kazunari allows himself to burst into laughter as Tenma’s hand blindly reaches out to steady himself on a covered up shelf, the back of his other hand rubbing at his nose. “- ugh. This is the worst.”

“Aw, there’s always worse though!” Kazunari pats his shoulder before turning to the shelf Tenma had been leaning on. He tugs on the side of the cloth covering up the shelf curiously as he adds, “At least here we get to explore some cool stuff while trying to figure out where Yukki and Not-Mukkun could be, yeah?”

Tenma rolls his eyes, but allows Kazunari to lead the way as they circle the room to the best of their ability, checking the ground for anything that could constitute as a ‘lost object’ before moving on to the next one.

Kazunari pauses. “... Tenten.”

“What?”

“You hear that?”

Tenma stops to listen. Kazunari watches as his eyes narrow, trying to pick out what he was trying to point out. “... Mumbling. They’re in the next room over. Let’s go.”

“Right behind ya, Tent… huh?”

Tenma pauses, turning around. “What is it?”

“I could’ve sworn I saw…” Kazunari’s eyes narrow considerably as he glances to his left, then to his right-  _ aha!  _ “Hey, Tenten, hold on for a bit, yeah?”

“What?! Why?!”

“I’m just gonna check out something, okay? If you really wanna go ahead and confront Yukki, then you can go!”

Tenma groans. “ _ Kazunari _ .”

“It’ll be quick!”

Despite his leader’s exclamations, Kazunari jogs over to one of the corners of the room, stopping at a tall something covered up by something that vaguely resembled the carpet they’d used for the  _ Water Me!  _ promotions and performances. ‘Vaguely’, because of the color scheme. The patterns on it were different, but you wouldn’t even be able to tell, with how it had frayed and tattered over time.

That hadn’t been what caught Kazunari’s interest, though - it had been the glint of  _ something  _ peeking out from a small part of the thing it was covering that had caught his eye.

Judging by the sudden increase in silence, Tenma had already gone ahead to confront Yuki and Not-Muku, which made sense. He was worried sick for the both of them. And Kazunari was too - but for some reason, he felt the need to check this thing out first, though.

Strengthening his resolve, Kazunari pulls the cloth aside.

* * *

_ I,  _ Kuro decides, bounding on all fours like his life depended on it,  _ am going to fucking  _ **_STRANGLE_ ** _ Nora. _

They’d been chasing the younger cats for quite some time now, past fields of dandelions and tall grass that Kuro knows they’ve played in before. They’d already  _ definitely  _ gone past the Cat Mansion at this point - if his memory served him correctly -, but they were nowhere near Fish Valley just yet.

“On your left.”

Kuro flinches a little as Nora slinks past him, the explorer’s tail flicking him in the ear before he continues on forward. Shaking his head, the Korat runs after him to the west, steadily approaching what looked like a forest that Kuro and Shiro had definitely seen before when they’d been on the journey for sardines - but never really gone inside or through.

The minute the area above his head grows darker, Kuro scrambles up the nearest tree for a better vantage point. His poncho snags on a branch briefly, but he tugs it off just in time to see Nora scaling another tree and then leaping across branches like it was nothing.

“They went this way!” Nora calls, claws unsheathed as he leaps across to another branch. His claws dig into the bark as the momentum swings him back and forth once before he propels himself to another branch.

Kuro’s ears flatten against his head.  _ Easy for him to say,  _ he grumbles mentally as he braces himself to do the same thing. Not everyone could claim to have as much ease of movement as Nora did, even if they  _ were  _ a cat as well.

Branch one: successful. Kuro rears back again, hind legs bracing against where branch met tree, and jumps.

Branch two nearly fucking gives him a heart attack when it splinters slightly as he moves, but he jumps to the next one before it gives way.

_ This might take a while. _

* * *

“You hear that?”

Yuki pauses at Florence’s words. The prince seemed oddly on guard, his normally dreamy look suddenly replaced with a much more focused one as he straightens up and looks around. A few moments pass before he hears it: footsteps that weren’t their own.

“Footsteps?”

Florence nods, wary. “Someone else is here.”

“...” Yuki squints at the ground, focusing on the sound of the footsteps. As a member of Summer Troupe, it was critical for each of them to remember exactly  _ whose  _ footsteps they could be hearing so they could be prepared for whoever was approaching. Some people, of course, had noticeable footsteps (like Omi and Tasuku), while others barely made a sound (Hisoka and Misumi).

Others’ footsteps, like Kumon’s, sometimes had the added benefit of sounding like new squeaky running shoes that Juza had gotten him for his birthday.

“God dammit.” Yuki pinches the bridge of his nose. At Florence’s confused look, he clarifies, “They followed us here. Of course they did.”

“You don’t sound that upset about it, though.”

Yuki huffs out something like a laugh, full of exasperated fondness as he crosses his arms. “That’s because I already knew it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“How?”

“We’re the Summer Troupe.” Yuki says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If there is no chaos, then we will somehow, inevitably, generate it ourselves. Come on, let’s just go face them then if they’re so insistent on ‘helping’.”

“Does that mean you’re going to tell them about-?”

“It’s definitely not out of the question.” Yuki stands up, holding out a hand to Florence and pulling him back up on his feet. “But first I’m going to give them an earful for following us here when I said not to.”

Florence’s mouth twists into a grin. It’s a lot more awkward than Muku’s. “You’re a terrifying force of nature.”

“Why thank you.”

With Florence back on his feet, Yuki yet again leads the way outside the room, looking around the hallway. There wasn’t anyone of note heading in their way, but there  _ was  _ noise in some of the other dressing rooms -  _ definitely  _ the presence of other people.

Or rats.

But Yuki didn’t even want to  _ think  _ about that.

“Stick close by me,” Yuki warns Florence. “If  _ any  _ of them suddenly bum rush us I want you to sucker punch them in the gut.”

Florence stares at him in alarm. “Excuse me?”

“Trust me, they can take a hit. If it’s Tenma, give him two punches.”

Florence only lets out a strangled chuckle of concern as Yuki opens one of the other doors.

* * *

“Tama!” Mikke’s voice sails and echoes through the forest. “Get back here! Ugh!”

_ Okay, fucking-  _ Kuro’s lips draw back in a snarl as he throws himself back to the ground, instantly more relieved to be darting around the undergrowth even though he’d sacrificed vision for maneuverability. The instant his feet hit the floor he’s on the run again, though this time he’s finally able to catch up to the branch-hopping Nora, who looks down at him briefly before laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Kuro calls out to him. When Nora doesn’t respond, he yells, “Hey!”

Nora flicks an ear in his direction as they run. “Don’t know why you insisted on climbing the trees when you were just going to go back down there, but okay, whatever, it’s your business.”

“Don’t make fun of m-”

“There!” Shiro’s voice breaks their banter, excited and filled with childlike glee. At the sound of his voice, Kuro feels a rush of adrenaline and sprints past where Nora was above his head and witnesses the trees thinning out around him.

_ Is this…? _

Eventually, he catches up to Mikke, who was already looking more tired by the minute as he leaned by a tree, panting. Even though nowadays he exercised more than the other cats in the mansion just like Tama did, he still had much less stamina than a normal cat did, so it was understandable.

“I’m so tired…” Mikke groans, flopping over a root. “Kuro, mew’re going to have to go on without me for a bit. I just gotta…”

Kuro’s ears flatten against his head. “Seriously?!”

“Seriously…”

“You’d  _ better _ catch up later, Mikke.” Kuro growls at Mikke before tearing after Nora, who’d jumped off of the tree Mikke had been leaning against and gone on ahead without them. Which was fine - Nora was stronger than both of them. If need be he could wrangle the two kits himself.

“Shiro!” Nora’s voice grows louder as Kuro approaches with increasing speed. “Wait- be careful- watch your paws- there’s a-!”

Shiro’s voice answers back, painfully oblivious. “There’s a what?”

“The edge of this forest’s mists- it hides a cliff that leads to the Lake of Reflection! You could fall if you’re not-  _ SHIRO! _ ”

_ Oh, that is  _ **_not_ ** _ a good sign.  _ Kuro forces himself to run faster, and right when he breaks through the last of the bushes he yowls, “SHIRO-!”

The shorthair had been standing on the edge of the cliff, but at the sound of Kuro’s voice he turns around in surprise, only to trip on his own tail -

\- and then he stumbles, and as if the world itself was slowing to a stop Kuro watches with agonizing clarity the exact moment Shiro’s paw twists slightly when he pulls his tail out from under him, making him fall over - and slip over the edge of the cliff.

His body moves before he realizes it. With a mighty leap, Kuro shoves past Nora and jumps right after Shiro despite Nora’s yells. Straining his neck and reaching as far as he can, Kuro’s teeth snag on Shiro’s hood for a bit before he finds his true target - Shiro’s scruff.

_ Please… if anyone who cares with power is watching… let me save Shiro! _

With all his strength, Kuro swings his head, and throws Shiro back onto the ledge of the cliff. Shiro shrieks in alarm as he’s thrown face first into the approaching Nora’s stomach, the two of them rolling into a ball and ramming into Tama, who’d been right behind Nora. The last thing Kuro sees is Shiro’s wide eyed stare as he falls from the cliff’s edge.

“KURO!” Shiro yowls, looking like he might throw himself off the cliff right after him - but he’s held back by the scruff by Nora, and then eventually Mikke and Tama wrestling his body to the ground.

Nora goes as close to the edge of the cliff as he dares to, and meets Kuro’s gaze as he falls.

Kuro grins, his eyes doing all the talking.  _ Take care of Shiro for a bit, okay? _

_ You’d better come back, damn you,  _ is Nora’s unspoken, anxious reply with his own eyes, claws digging into the ground.

Kuro winks, and he knows it’s the last thing Nora sees before the fast-encroaching clouds of mist block them all from view. The wind whistling through his fur and clothes, Kuro does his best to twist around so that he’s at least facing the ground he’s about to make contact with-

\- but the ground never comes.

The light blinds him as he falls, and he barely feels the splash.

Or the other person sailing past him in the water, surrounded in bubbles.

* * *

It probably should have already rung warning bells when he’d opened the door and seen Kazunari’s body on the dusty floor, unmoving, but it didn’t. His first instinct had been to believe that Kazunari, of course, was playing dead and trying to scare him or any of the others who’d stumble on him - before remembering that Kazunari wasn’t the  _ type  _ to actually  _ do  _ that unless it was a trend on Tiktok.

And then Kazunari’s head suddenly jolts up, and turns to look at him and Florence.

Yuki would deny ever yelping as ungracefully as he did when the blur that is Kazunari tackles him to the ground. Blinking rapidly, he’s treated to the sight of Kazunari hovering over him, teeth bared in a snarl and nails digging into his shirt so hard he’s pretty sure there would be tears later… and  _ visibly twitching black cat ears on his head.  _ He wasn’t sure if those were just those battery operated mechanical moving ears that he’d heard about with how they moved so naturally.

First of all, what the fuck. Second of all,  _ what the fuck? _

“Kazunari? Get off me.” Yuki tries to shove the older boy off of him, but strangely enough he doesn’t budge. “ _ Kazunari.  _ **_Get off_ ** _. _ ”

Kazunari  _ hisses  _ at him. What the  _ fucking hell? _

Yuki maneuvers his hands towards Kazunari’s forearms before kneeing the older boy in the stomach, freeing himself as he lets go of Yuki and backs off into a corner of the room, snarling and spitting like…  _ like an actual cat _ would.

Yuki pauses, and then looks at him.  _ Really  _ looks at him.

He’s dressed exactly like Kazunari had been during the Great Sardine Search, from the ears to the tail to the green and blue textiles that made up his poncho-like clothes. He  _ looked  _ like Kazunari. But see, here’s the thing: now that he was looking closely, he was pretty sure he couldn’t see  _ any  _ clips or headbands that kept the ears on his head. His teeth were sharper, and his eyes… oh, they were still Kazunari’s green, but those eyes were  _ not  _ human in the slightest. The giveaway had to be the slitting pupils.

Oh.

Oh  _ no. _

Oh  **_good fucking Lord NO._ **

This was _not_ happening right now.

The cat - or rather, the cat _boy_ that Kuro had become - shrinks back, ears flat against his head as Yuki swears yet again.


	10. x. kazunari

Kazunari doesn’t know if he’s dreaming.

His body felt sore, as though he’d been picked up with one hand by Tasuku and thrown directly through like five brick walls without any warning whatsoever. His clothes were all wet as well, which probably meant his phone was  _ definitely  _ busted as well because of the fact it had been in his pockets during his untimely splash. Which was strange, given that he was pretty sure he hadn’t been  _ anywhere  _ near water before he’d…

… before he’d what, exactly?

_ Okay, Kazu. Backtrack.  _ Kazunari’s brow furrows, his eyes still closed. It was a  _ little  _ hard to concentrate given that for some reason he was soaking wet and all his clothes were sticking to his body, but he was managing.  _ You stayed behind instead of following after Tenma for a bit because you saw something in the room that caught your attention. You pulled off the weird cloth, and found a really cool but weird mirror… but… then…? _

“What is it? Is it the treasure?”  _ Yukki? _

“Don’t touch it, Tama! That isn’t a toy!”  _ … Tenten? _

“I wasn’t going to!”  _ Sumi?! _

“... Stand back, all of you.”  _ Mukkun…? _

He hears voices - voices that were familiar but also  _ not  _ at the same time. He thinks he can make out Yuki’s voice, as well as Muku’s, Misumi’s, and Tenma’s, but… Muku sounded much older. Coarser around the edges unlike the soft voice he was used to. Yuki’s voice too was different - cuter, younger, as was Misumi’s. Tenma’s sounded more like when he’d first started out at MANKAI - arrogance with a hint of something that Kazunari couldn’t place.

“Hey.” Muku’s voice again, he thinks. Something nudges at his side. “If you’re alive… wake up, will you?”

Kazunari thinks about it for a moment. On one hand, he could listen to the voice that sounded like his good and cherished roomie and open his eyes. On the other hand, it could most  _ definitely  _ be a trick and he could probably get gutted for it the  _ minute  _ he opens his eyes and sees whoever had been using Muku’s voice. On  _ another  _ note, there was also the possibility he’d die either way.

_ … You know what? YOLO. If I die, I die. Tsuzuroon and Omimi can strangle me in the afterlife. _

Kazunari opens his eyes.

Wide orange eyes are the first pair of eyes that he finds staring at him. They’re definitely Yuki’s, he thinks, because there’s sort of a green head of hair to go with it and they’re almost the same sort of orange. But there’s something wrong.

And then he realizes that the person he’d initially thought was Yuki was, to put it quite bluntly, a talking cat. White fur for the most part, with orange eyes that radiated a childlike innocence to them. The green head of hair definitely wasn’t something he’d hallucinated either - it kind of  _ looked  _ more like fur up close, but it definitely could pass off as an actual head of hair.

Specifically Yuki’s. That was a thing that needed to be specified.

He looks down at the cat’s body, and notices for the first time that the cat person is dressed eerily similar to Yuki during their performance of The Great Sardine Search, white poncho with pink ribbons and bells and all. Even the tail and cat ears was there - but then again, it  _ was  _ a cat. Cat person? Neko-man?

Kazunari was  _ probably  _ going to have a headache thinking about this later on.

“So it understands us… that’s neat.” It’s the Muku voice from earlier - the rugged, older sounding Muku voice, that is. “Shiro, get off of it. You don’t know where it’s been.”

It's a relief to Kazunari that there wouldn't be too many problems communicating with these cat people, but that brought into question whether or not they were speaking English, or if he was speaking cat. _Aw man. If only Sumi were here too. He'd know the difference._

The cat staring at Kazunari flicks its ear at the name ‘Shiro’ - which unfortunately only confirmed what he’d been suspecting this whole time: he was in the world of none other than Sardine Search, which meant… he was surrounded by talking cats that could walk on their hind legs.

Kazunari opens his mouth, and the first thing that leaves his mouth is a strangled noise that sounded like a cross between a gurgle and a whale’s call.

“Nya! _ Bakemonyo, bakemonyo!”  _ One of the other cats yelps at the sound - the one that sounded like Tenma -, and when Kazunari turns to look at them he recognizes Mikke, hackles rising, and standing in front of a smaller cat that could have only been Tama protectively. Tama didn’t  _ look  _ scared though - just curious. “Stay away from my brother, monster!”

Okay, that probably hadn’t been a good way to introduce himself to talking cats. But you know what? He was nothing if not adaptable to various social situations. It just so happened that the social situation he was currently in involved talking cats in clothes with sort-of hair that sounded and vaguely resembled his troupe members. Super duper easy.

Oh, to be Banri and be on super ultra easy mode when handling talking cat people.

Kazunari pushes himself up into a sitting position, holding up his hands in surrender as Shiro backs away from him. It occurs to him in that moment that the cats are either human sized, or  _ he  _ was cat sized right now but still human. Both possibilities were lowkey horrifying to think about - but he sets that aside for the moment as he faces the group.

Shiro, Nora, Mikke, Tama…  _ wait, there’s someone missing… _

_ Hold on a minute… where’s Kuro? _

His own Sardine Search counterpart didn’t seem to be anywhere near this group. Weird, given that the way Tsuzuru had written him he would most definitely be somewhere  _ around  _ Shiro making sure he didn’t get into too much trouble at any point. Kumon’s character, the chief, at least had the excuse of having to stay back. Kuro didn’t.

_ Where is he, I wonder? _

Setting aside the thought for the moment, he wiggles his fingers at the cats in greeting. “Chill, chill, no need to get freaked out or anything. I’m not a monster, I’m just a human! See, all five fingers and a cute smile to boot!” He flashes them all the brightest smile he can muster while winking and doing a peace sign, and Tama seems dazzled at the sight.

“Wait-  _ a mewman?! _ ” Kazunari turns his head to see Shiro staring at him with wide eyes. “Mew’re a mewman?! Fur real?! Honest to goodness?!”

Mikke wrinkles his nose. “It said ‘human’, not ‘mewman’.”

“Whatefur!” Shiro bounds up to Kazunari and kneads at his pants leg eagerly. “Mewman! Mew’re really a mewman?! Fur real and fur honest?! Mew’re not pulling my tail?”

Kazunari lifts a hand to his mouth, softly gasping. He’d performed as Kuro with Yuki as Shiro before, of course, and Tsuzuru had written Shiro to be a curious, mischievous little thing with boundless amounts of energy. Yuki had played that part well and Kazunari had played off of that well in his role as the more serious Kuro. But even with all that, he had  _ not  _ been prepared to be faced with the  _ real  _ deal eagerly batting at his knees with an eager smile and wide eyes.

“... Yup, I’m a human. The real deal is me, Kazunari - see? Show me your paw.” He holds out a hand, and waits as Shiro carefully puts one of his paws on his. He points at his fingers, and then at Shiro’s toebeans. “We’re very different, you and I.”

“Wow…” Shiro, sitting on his haunches, uses both front paws to play with Kazunari’s fingers. “So these are human fingers… they’re so long, meow! I want mewman fingers!”

That image was horrifying to think about, but Kazunari doesn’t dwell on it for long.

_ (He'd probably be thinking about it in his dreams tonight. That wasn't going to be fun for anyone.) _

Instead, despite himself, he laughs at the eagerness. On instinct he reaches out with his other hand towards Shiro’s head when another paw bats his hand away, prompting him to look at who’d done so.

As to be expected, it’s Nora, whose ears are lower than normal and hiding in the pinkish gray tufts of fur that curled a lot like Muku’s hair - on the defensive. Understandable. Kazunari was probably alien to them. “So you’re really a human, then?”

“Pretty sure I’m definitely human. Unless I’m like, part cat or something. Hi, I’m Kazunari.” Kazunari holds out a hand before realizing that cats probably didn’t  _ do  _ things like shaking hands as a greeting. He withdraws it soon after. “Kazunari Miyoshi.”

“I’m Shiro!” Shiro answers first, giddy. “Nice to meet mew, Kazunyari!”

Nora sighs, but Kazunari can detect the fondness in it. “Shiro, try saying his name again.”

“Kazunyari?”

Kazunari mentally makes a cross over his heart and blows a kiss to the gods using his middle and index fingers for giving him this opportunity to meet Shiro and to be called Kazunyari. Maybe he  _ had  _ done something right in a past life for this to have happened. Was this good karma? “It’s okay, he can call me Kazunyari if he wants. And you’re Nora, and that’s Mikke and Tama, right?”

“... That’d be us, yes.” Nora cocks his head to the side curiously. “You’ve heard of us before?”

“Ehhhh, sorta. It’s a long story.” Kazunari makes an ‘ehh’ gesture with a hand before staring down at himself. And at his sopping wet clothes. “But more importantly… do you guys know why I’m all wet?”

It’s Tama who answers, wiggling his haunches. He sees the Misumi in him as he meows in an almost lazy drawl, “You were floating on the surface of the lake when we traveled all the way down here, so Nora pulled you to shore by the scruff an’ made sure you didn’t drown, nya!”

“... How’d I end up on the lake?”

“That’s what  _ we  _ want to know, actually, since we’re looking for a friend who fell right  _ into  _ the lake.” Nora hums thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have happened to see him at some point… have you?”

_ A friend who fell right into the…  _ “You don’t mean Kuro, do you?”

“So you  _ have _ seen him, then?” Nora’s eyes widen.

Kazunari grimaces. “... About that. It’s part of the long story.”

“...  _ No way. _ ” Tama’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “ _ Did you eat him? _ ”

“ _ BAKEMONYO!”  _ Mikke shrieks, already aiming to grab Tama by the scruff, and Kazunari is viscerally reminded of the time they’d thought Misumi was a ghost the first time around in the dorms. “Tama, we’re going home! We are  _ going  _ the  _ fuck  _ home- ack!”

Kazunari stifles a snicker as Nora boxes one of Mikke’s ears lightly, ears flat against his headgear before turning to Kazunari again. “Sorry about him. Looks like Kuro not being around just reduced the number of braincells in this group, huh?”

“... Mew didn’t eat Kuro though, right, Kazunyari?” Shiro asks, fiddling with the edge of his poncho. When Kazunari shakes his head in response, the shorthair sighs in relief. “Good. Beclaws I can’t be friends with someone who ate another friend.”

Kazunari reaches out tentatively, and when it’s clear that Nora isn’t going to stop him this time, he ruffles the hair (fur?) on Shiro’s head reassuringly. He hears a quiet purr coming from Shiro as he says, “Kuro’s a real cool cat. I wouldn’t eat him even if I could, y’know?”

“But if you didn’t eat him, then where is he?” Mikke asks him suspiciously. “And why’re  _ you  _ here instead?”

Kazunari fixes himself into a cross legged sitting position. “I have a theory on where he is. But before I can tell you about it, I’m gonna have to tell you guys a story. That okay with you guys?”

“I wanna hear a story!” Shiro declares, tail flicking and eyes bright and sparkly. Tama nods eagerly, kneading at the ground, while Mikke only groans, but doesn’t run away. Nora’s a little more wary, Kazunari can tell, but he’s sitting like a cat would in front of him anyway, waiting.

“... Well?” Nora urges.

Kazunari coughs into his fist. “Okay. First things first, have you guys ever heard of a play?”


	11. xi. meow's the word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me reading the comments: gamers........ everyone who commented? ily. you are enabling my shitposting in the form of this fic and i appreciate it sm <3333333
> 
> anyway stan natsugumi, drink water, and continue being epic

The first thing Yuki does, immediately after swearing up a storm, is shove Florence out of the room and slam the door behind him. The prince squeaks when Yuki accidentally steps on his foot, making him stumble and fall over backwards as Yuki stares at the floor, trying to process the situation a little better.

One: that wasn’t Kazunari in there. It was Kuro, the Korat that Kazunari  _ played  _ as from their play The Great Sardine Search. Except he wasn’t a  _ cat  _ cat, but basically Kazunari with feline characteristics. Which was weird and definitely something Muku and/or Kumon would’ve ended up thinking about at 3 in the morning and disturbing their roommate about it.

Two: that meant, through the process of deduction, Kazunari was in the world of Sardine Search, just as Muku was in the world of the Floral Prince. Which probably meant that he was the only human in a world of human-sized cats. Furry heaven.

_ (Then again, Kazunari would probably have a field day with that one.) _

Three: there was a  _ trend  _ happening here. First Muku, and then Kazunari. They were roommates, and both of them had ended up trading places with one of the many characters they’d played as in one of the plays Tsuzuru had written. Both switches had happened in the backstage and dressing room areas of the theater while Yuki hadn’t been looking.

And now the rest of the troupe was  _ also  _ in the area doing god knows what.

Oh, this was  _ not  _ good. This was absolutely  _ not  _ good at all. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Yuki  _ refused  _ to believe that things could possibly get worse from there.

Florence and Yuki both jump when they hear something slam against the door they’d just closed - something suspiciously similar to a body throwing itself against the door as if trying to bust it open. In response, Florence stumbles back onto his feet, and throws himself at the door in response.

…

“What the  _ hell  _ was that supposed to be?!” Yuki asks in exasperation. “What did you  _ think  _ you were going to accomplish?”

Florence shrugs helplessly at him. Yuki only groans and buries his face in his hands, muffling a frustrated scream. Right on cue, Yuki hears crashing noises coming from at least three  _ other  _ dressing rooms, and drags his fingers down his face.

Things could always get worse.  _ Always _ . He’s not even sure why he even bothers hoping for the best sometimes.

“Okay, you know what. Out of the way.”

“What?!”

“I said  _ move _ .”

Yuki firmly shoves Florence to the side before putting a hand on the door handle, listening closely for if Kuro was aiming to throw himself at the door again. When he presses his ear to the door, he can faintly make out the sound of Kuro clawing at the door as if begging to be let out.

He tugs down on the door handle. The scratching stops briefly. When Yuki listens closer, he hears the sound of claws scrabbling against the floor and Kuro darting away from the doorway.

_ Okay. He’s not there anymore. _

Yuki opens the door.

This time, Kuro didn’t seem as keen on lashing out at either of them. Rather, the catboy seemed to be shrinking away in a corner, hiding away among the various boxes and tarps. His pupils were still visibly slit, which meant he was on guard and ready to defend himself, but he wasn’t making any moves to get anywhere near them.

“Wait,” Florence says. It’s the most serious Yuki’s heard him be in the short time he’s known him. “Stay behind me, Yuki.”

Yuki stares at him as though he’s grown a second head. “Excuse me?”

Florence doesn’t answer, which makes irritation flare up briefly in Yuki’s chest. Instead, he moves past Yuki to stand in front of him, an arm raised as if trying to shield him. Even though he was dressed in casual, modern clothing, there was something about his stance and posturing that screamed that of a ‘prince’ ready to protect - whether it be human or animal.

Kuro’s lips draw back into a defensive snarl, claws digging into the ground.

“What. Are you.  _ Doing _ .”

“Protecting you for Muku’s sake.”

“From  _ what?! _ That is a frightened animal!” Yuki tugs on his ear, prompting Florence to yelp in pain as Yuki turns his focus back to Kuro. The cat didn’t seem to have noticed yet that he wasn’t exactly a  _ cat  _ anymore, judging from how he was poised and ready to strike on all fours, but Yuki figures they’d get to that eventually.

Florence was utterly baffled. He gestures to Kuro with a hand - which makes Kuro hiss in his direction. “I literally witnessed him attack you earlier and you’re telling me not to protect you from him?”

“He’s a- well, he  _ used  _ to be a  _ frightened animal,  _ of  _ course  _ he was going to react when we suddenly showed up out of nowhere.” Yuki pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh before gesturing for Florence to crouch down on the ground. When he doesn’t immediately do so, Yuki pulls on his shirt sleeve and pulls him down with him, the both of them now crouching on the floor and on eye level with Kuro.

Kuro snarls at him. Yuki glares at him and hisses back, making both Kuro and Florence stare at him incredulously.

“... What?” Yuki asks defensively.

Florence holds up his hands. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect that.”

“Well, I’m not a  _ cat _ nor am I Misumi, who can  _ talk  _ to cats.” 

“Misumi is the one who likes triangles, right? He can talk to cats?”

Yuki huffs softly. “Yes, but he’s not exactly here. He’s probably in one of the other rooms, and if we move now-” he glances at Kuro briefly. “- then we’d end up back at square one. This would be so much easier if you were like Muku.”

“How so?”

“Animals  _ love  _ Muku.”

“Well, animals do love me as well, but in my world specifically.” Florence taps his chin thoughtfully, brow furrowed. “Maybe it doesn’t work since I’m in this world, and this… cat person that looks like your friend isn’t from my world.”

Yuki only sighs, looking back at Kuro. “I don’t even know if he can understand us.”

“Well. It’s not like either of us have directly tried talking to him.”

Yuki stares at him.

“... Why are you looking at me like that, Yuki?”

“Where was this braincell a few minutes ago when you rammed into the door?”

Florence shrugs helplessly before they both turn to face Kuro again. This time, however, Florence decides to reach out to Kuro with a hand. In response Kuro hisses at Florence, swiping at him with sharp claws and only barely missing his wrist when he pulls his hand back. Florence, undeterred, reaches out to him again, and only barely misses getting scratched by Kuro’s claws when Yuki pulls his arm out of harm’s way the second time.

“I’m beginning to understand exactly why Tsuzuru designed Broto for you as a retainer,” Yuki deadpans. “Don’t move a muscle.”

The corner of Florence’s mouth twitches up a little.

If looks could kill, Florence would already be dead fifty times over. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Okay, okay,” Florence laughs and backs away slightly, still crouched down. “You and Rose really are incredibly similar.”

“As you’ve said repeatedly.”

Yuki turns back to Kuro. The catboy had calmed down some, which was good, but he was still visibly distrusting. Now what could possibly convince him that he and Florence were…

A thought occurs to Yuki. An unbidden thought, involving the entirety of the summer troupe, Taichi, and Sakuya, the TV in the living room, and a movie about befriending dragons.

_ … Yeah. Okay. Might as well. Sometimes things might as well happen. _

**_God_ ** _ I am so glad none of the people I watched the movie with are here to see this right now. _

Yuki holds out a hand, palm out towards Kuro.

Kuro, warily, draws closer. Yuki had to admire how somehow, despite the extreme change in anatomy, he still seemed to retain the feral grace of an actual cat as he moved, tail still dragging along the floor. His ears weren’t pressed against his head, which was a good sign that he wasn’t going to lash out at Yuki… yet.

He hears Florence hold his breath briefly as Kuro’s nose sits a few inches away from Yuki’s open palm, not moving any closer, but not moving any farther either. Yuki doesn’t move an inch though, just meeting Kuro’s eyes with his own. Orange meeting lime. Kuro’s pupils aren’t slits for once - they’re round and less frightening to look at.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Yuki says slowly, wishing and hoping that he was properly channeling Muku in that instant. It would’ve been easier if Muku had been here - animals  _ loved  _ Muku. Muku was a kind, gentle soul and animals could sense it. Yuki… wasn’t. He wasn’t even going to deny that. “We promise.”

Kuro flicks his ear at Yuki once, blinking slowly. Did he understand him? And if he did… since he was technically  _ part  _ human right now, could he speak? Yuki  _ really  _ wished he would say something or  _ anything  _ besides spitting and hissing, but Misumi and Muku had both told him that befriending cats took a while.

Not that he had the time, considering that he was still working on tracking down Muku and Kazunari and figuring out how to send back Florence (and now Kuro too), but whatever.

“Look, I… know you’re scared. This isn’t home. This isn’t the world of the cats.” As he speaks, he can see Kuro just staring at him, as if hanging onto every single word.  _ There’s no way he doesn’t understand me. That facial expression…  _ “But we won’t hurt you. We want to help you get back home… if you’ll let us. You’re not the only one who’s not where he’s supposed to be.”

Kuro cocks his head to the side, gaze trailing away from Yuki’s face. Somehow, Yuki knows he’s looking at Florence.

“Yeah. That’s Florence. I’m helping him find a way back home too.” Yuki’s arm was already beginning to hurt, but he couldn’t let it drop now - not when Kuro was finally calm enough to be spoken to.

Kuro’s ears lower, and Yuki tenses, preparing to get bitten…

… except that’s not what happens. Instead, Kuro rubs his cheek against Yuki’s palm like a cat would. He hears Florence sigh in relief, and then watches as Kuro draws closer.

Only one thought crosses Yuki’s mind at that moment:  _ Oh no. _

Kuro knocks Yuki over like a cat would a glass on the edge of a table. Once he’s on the floor, Kuro then begins to knead at his shirt with his hands. Paws.  _ Whatever. _

_ He is  _ **_so_ ** _ lucky I’m wearing a shirt I’m fine with throwing out _ .

Florence stifles a laugh with a hand. “That went well.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Yuki says flatly before flinching as he realizes that Kuro was now drumming on his stomach with his hands. The sight sends Florence snickering. “Oh my god, no. Stop. You will  _ not  _ mention this to anyone ever, not even your future wife. I  _ mean  _ it flowerbrain- I’m going to force Tsuzuru to write me into existence in your world and I’ll choke you if you do-”

“No promises~” Florence singsongs.

Yuki forces himself to sit up again, accidentally bumping heads with Kuro on the way. The former cat draws back at the impact, rubbing at his forehead with a hand while grimacing as Yuki shoots Florence a dirty look. The prince only grins at him in response.

“Ow.”

Yuki immediately whips his head around to look at Kuro. “You talked.”

“...” Kuro looks at him, and then at his hands, before opening his mouth. Yuki’s treated to the sight of many, many sharp teeth. “... Meow?”

Yuki squints. “If you understand me, flick your ear at me.” Flick. “If you can talk, flick the other ear at me.” Flick. “... Okay. He definitely understands what we’re saying then.”

“Of course I can. I’m not stupid. I’m purrfectly capable of speaking if I want to.”

Kuro’s voice, Yuki notes, is a lot like Kazunari’s - but it’s more serious, a bit lower in pitch. There is a curl to his ‘r’s that Kazunari doesn’t have when he speaks, and he also didn’t pepper his sentences with slang or lingo. Cat puns didn’t count.

“Nobody called you stupid, furry.” Yuki holds out a hand again. “Yuki. This is Florence.”

Kuro looks down at his hand before looking up again at Yuki. “... Okay, I’ll bite. I’m Kuro. What are you both? And what happened to me?” He holds up his hands and flexes all ten of his human fingers before looking at his bare skin with a furrowed brow. “... Did I get shaved?”

“Humans. We’re humans. And you’re sort of part human right now. Save for the ears and tail, I guess. And claws.”

As if to punctuate Yuki’s words, Florence inches closer and pokes one of Kuro’s ears with a finger. Kuro snaps at Florence’s finger - which he withdraws quickly - before refocusing on Yuki.

“So  _ you’re  _ humans, huh?” Kuro hums thoughtfully. Yuki hears him murmur something like ‘Shiro’ and ‘sardines’ under his breath before toying with the tassels on his poncho. “Okay then. Great.”

“You sound dead inside,” Florence notes.

“What? Nooo. I’m not. Of course not.” Kuro grins at both of them. It’s all teeth. “I save Shiro from breaking his neck trying to chase a treasure Nora claims to have found and end up falling off a cliff, and in exchange I get turned into some weird half-human thingy, and now I’m stuck in a world that isn’t even my own.” He claps his hands together sarcastically. “Great! I’m going to kill all of them when I get back. If I still have these human fingers when I get back I’ll use them especially for that.”

Yuki, in that exact moment, puts a hand on Kuro’s shoulder in understanding. “You and I are going to get along just fine. I can feel it.”

Florence, meanwhile, had other issues. “Wait, can we go back to the part where you said you fell off a cliff?”

_ CRASH! _

Kuro’s ears press against his head yet again as he hisses at the sound. Yuki, meanwhile, only concentrates, and listens well.

Screaming. Very  _ familiar  _ screaming - screaming that belonged specifically to Tenma Sumeragi and Kumon Hyodo. And… the sound of something hitting the walls?

“Yuki,” Florence says. “I don’t think that’s a good sound.”

One of the doors to the dressing room they’re currently in opens, and running in are three notable people:

The first, a boy resembling Kumon dressed in a baseball uniform, a hand on his cap and his mouth wide open in terror. Yuki’s mind fills in the blanks.  _ Souta Akiyama. First Crush Baseball. _

The second, a boy that looked like Tenma in a costume Yuki knew by heart - jangly golden jewelry and all.  _ Ali Baba. Water Me. _

And the third?

A cutlass slams against one of the cabinets in the room covered by a cloth. Souta shrieks again when the pirate that was Captain Sky points the cutlass at him threateningly, only for Ali Baba to pull out the dagger on his waist and try to fight him with it.

Yuki stares at Florence. “You  _ think? _ ”


	12. xii. misumi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me at 3am screaming because i can't write pirates for shit: YO HO HO AND A BOTTLE OF F U C K
> 
> anyway i did a poll on twitter and people voted for misumi so i wrote and posted misumi's chapter first

Misumi was no stranger to unexplainable occurrences. Tasuku and Tsumugi could definitely attest to that, what with their experience with the Torment Doll and its time loop shenanigans - and how Misumi had surprisingly been kept out of the loop as well at the time. Misumi himself was almost unexplainable - a ‘super awesome cryptid’ in his own right as Kazunari would say.

So really, he’d picked up on the presence of something strange in one of the unused dressing rooms almost immediately after Kumon had said he’d creep around another room, acting on a sixth sense that he claimed ‘told him of an evil presence lurking around the backstage’.

And then Kumon had proceeded to run off to investigate on his lonesome, leaving Misumi on his lonesome.

Misumi didn’t mind. He’d meet up with Kumon again later, and then they would’ve met up with the rest of the troupe afterwards. He could go triangle hunting in this room after he’d investigated the strange thing he hadn’t found yet. All would be well!

Except Misumi hadn’t counted on the strange thing being a mirror - one that showed his reflection as Captain Sky from their play  _ Captain Sky’s Pirates _ . It was fun to stand in front of the mirror for a bit, making strange faces that Captain Sky mirrored with his own, but eventually he’d have to go. There was still the issue of Not-Muku - and he still needed to check for triangles to take back in this room.

So he’d turned around - only to feel something otherworldly pull him towards the mirror. Like a sudden wind, pushing him back and forcing his back to make contact with the mirror - and then making him  _ fall right through and splash into water. _

Misumi was not dressed for swimming, if anyone ever asked. Sure, he could swim in his usual clothes - but it was in no way ideal. Especially not in the current situation he was in.

He kicks his legs, and forces himself upwards, breaking through the water’s surface with a gasp. The first thing he sees is a ship-

_ No,  _ he corrects, seeing the flag raised high.  _ A  _ **_pirate_ ** _ ship. _

“The cap’n! He’s alive!”

Voices coming from the ship. They were  _ very  _ familiar to Misumi, but also  _ not.  _ Or maybe that was just the seawater in his ears.

“Of course he is! It’s literally been only two minutes since he fell in!”

Oh. Right. He could drown if he stayed here too long and stopped paddling. He had a lot of stamina though. He could keep paddling for a  _ really  _ long time. It’d be nice to get fished out sooner or later, though.

“Toss it down there already, then!”

As Misumi treads water while bobbing up and down in the waves, his eyes catch sight of a net being thrown overhead and surrounding him. He’s barely given time to react before the net begins to close in on him, and suddenly he’s out of the water but trapped in a net with a few unfortunate fishes.

“HEAVE!”

“HO!”

Misumi’s body slams against the side of the boat with a thunk.

“OY! Y’got kelp for brains or what?!”

“Sorry! Sorry!”

“Don’ say sorry t’him, Jonny! Say sorry t’th cap’n when he gets up here!”

_ The captain?  _ Misumi squints for a moment before a lightbulb appears above his head.  _ Oh! They mean Sky! _ Pause.  _ … Oh, that means I’m in the world of Captain Sky’s Pirates and they’re probably going to kill me when they get me up there and out of this net. _

Well. That wouldn’t do. He needed to get back to the summer troupe alive and not in sliced Misumi bits. Even if they  _ did  _ slice him up in triangles, sliced up Misumi triangle bits couldn’t talk to Kazu or Tenma or Muku or Yuki or Kumon.

“Gotcha!”

Strong arms hoist Misumi over the edge of the boat and drop him with the fish on deck. When they open the net up, however, a hush falls over the group as Misumi and the fish all tumble out. One fish that had gotten stuck in Misumi’s hoodie wriggles out and falls with a splat against the deck, flopping around helplessly.

“Wait, that ain’t the cap’n,” a voice says. “Where’s the cap’n?”

“He looks like the cap’n, but those clothes be far from the cap’n’s.”

“An impostor…?!”

Misumi blinks up at the sound of metal being drawn out of a scabbard, wide eyed and soaking wet. He can taste saltwater on his lips as he brushes away some of his hair to see better. He sees two cutlasses pointed directly at him - which is fine, really. He’s seen worse pointed at him. But it’s the people  _ holding  _ them - and the people backing  _ those  _ people up - that leave him a bit stunned.

They’re older than him, more world weary. The one on the left is a woman with startling eyes like coursing lava, the other a man with eyes like a sea in the storm. Both are scowling at him deeply as they point their blades at him. The men behind them are similarly upset to see him - though the one with hair like flames is more confused than  _ truly  _ upset.

The thing is… they looked  _ incredibly  _ similar to people he already knew.

The only woman on the ship had green hair - much, much darker in shade, but Misumi would recognize that hairstyle and part anywhere.

_ Yuki _ .

And the man with stormy eyes… his hair was darker too, but in the light it actually looked kind of  _ pink. _

_ Like Muku’s. _

Misumi’s eyes dart around, assessing the other three. The flaming haired one…  _ Tenma _ . The dirty blond in clothes  _ much  _ cleaner and  _ much  _ more orderly than the others…  _ Kazu _ … wait. There was someone missing.  _ Kumon? He’s not here? … Oh, wait. His character’s probably with the Navy still. Maybe. I wonder what point in the timeline for these guys I’m in? _

_ BONK. _

The flat edge of one of the cutlasses taps him lightly on the head. Right. He was being interrogated.

“We be fishin’ the cap’n out o’ these waters, fearin’ he drowned after he’d gone an’ listened to a siren’s song, makin’ faces at the water like a man possessed,” the stormy-eyed man growls. “An’ instead we get a wee lad. What’ve y’done with th’ captain, sea witch?”

“Sea witch? Silly, my name’s Misumi, not sea witch.” Misumi grins at them, fangs and all, before looking up. His eyes widen comically. “AH!”

“Ah?” The orange haired man asks.

“Look, a triangle!” Misumi points up at one of the flaglets strung across the sails, and in surprise they all look up. Taking the opportunity, Misumi places his palms flat against the deck before standing on his hands and kicking the cutlasses away with one carefully aimed strike. They clatter against the deck a few feet away from them.

“Ah-!”

“What the-!”

At the yelps, Misumi grins once before gearing up and flinging himself upwards, startling them into stumbling back and away from him.

_ Aim for it...  _ His hand snags a handhold on the main pole holding the sails up.  _ Got it! _

The moment the woman realizes what he’s done, she growls and picks her cutlass back up.

“Paul!” The woman barks out, and Misumi watches as she tosses her cutlass to the man with eyes a toxic lime green like he’s never seen before. The man catches the sword with grace before flinging it directly at Misumi’s face. Misumi only leans back as far as he can, thighs gripping the pole, before flinging himself back up to higher ground, hand skirting the sail as he goes.

Paul curses. “Francoise, did you fish up a sea witch, or a sea  _ monkey?  _ Literally what the  _ fuck? _ ”

“Shut yer blabberin’, Paul, and spot me!” Francoise - the woman, apparently - barks out. “Henry!”

Henry - which turned out to be the man who’d been holding the other cutlass - , kneels down, allowing Francoise to step on his cupped hands with one foot before she uses him as a springboard to launch herself at Misumi. A hand outstretched, she grabs onto one of the poles protruding from the main pole with practiced grace, swinging back and forth before using the momentum to fling herself further up.

Misumi’s no stranger to acrobatics, so he’s able to deftly dodge when she latches onto a handhold and throws herself at him. He hangs upside down from the pole by his legs as Francoise hisses, “Yer a slippery one, aren’tcha?”

“Am I? Maybe you’re just slow!” Misumi grins before letting go of the pole, landing directly on one of the others on deck. This person happened to be the orange haired one, who yelps as Misumi rolls off of him and ducks when Henry slashes at him with a cutlass.

“You coulda sliced me head off, Henry!” The man cries out, hands flying to his throat.

Henry growls and sheathes the cutlass again. “Up on yer feet, Jonny. This be no time for fun an’ games.”

“There’s always time for a little fun!” Misumi singsongs before ducking just in time when Jonny lunges at him. “Missed me- ah!”

“Got you.”

Francoise carefully slides down the sails as Jonny picks himself up from the ground. Henry, meanwhile, crosses his arms as Paul holds Misumi up by the back of both shirt  _ and  _ hoodie like one would hold a stray cat by the scruff.

“... Y’got t’ hand it to the hag, she’s go’ the cap’n’s good looks down pat,” Jonny observes, poking Misumi’s face carefully with a finger.

Misumi laughs, rocking his feet back and forth. “I’m not a hag, I’m Misumi!”

“That yer name?” Francoise asks. At Misumi’s nod, she puts a hand on her hip. “Aight. A name t’ the fake face.”

Misumi frowns a little at that. “My face is very real, thank you very much. See?” He pushes his cheeks up with his two hands before adding, “Kazu says I’m a beautiful bouncing baby boy with a smile that’d kill the ladies in one hit.”

“Kazu?” Paul asks.

“He’s my friend! He looks just like you because he played as you!” Misumi squirms around in Paul’s hold before booping the former Navy officer right in the nose, startling him into letting go and dropping Misumi back on deck.

Francoise moves forward a step, but is halted by Henry, whose brow furrows at Misumi. “Tell me, sea w-  _ Misumi, _ ” he corrects when Misumi pouts at him. “What… exactly do you mean by ‘played as you’?”

“Oh! That means Paul is a character in a play, and Kazu played as him in the play!” Misumi answers cheerfully. “Actually, everyone here’s just a character in a play and this world isn’t really as real as you think because it was written by Tsuzuru into existence. And now I’m here! Which is cool because you have so many triangles on board! I wanna take home all of them!”

Jonny openly gawks at him.

Francoise stares before crossing her arms. “This be no sea witch, Hen. Jus’ a loony kid.”

“You say ‘kid’ like we aren’t young ourselves,” Paul says dryly.

“I’m twenty one,” Misumi says breezily.

Francoise raises an eyebrow. “An adult. Barely looks like one, this laddie. And y’ really be callin’ twenty seven  _ young,  _ Paul? Last I heard y’said we’d be walkin’ the plank an’ gettin’ married all th’way down in Davy Jones’s locker by the time we hit thirty.”

“That’s because Sky keeps leading us into these crazy treasure hunts,” Paul grumbles. “Enough about that, though. What are we going to do with… Misumi?”

“We still ‘aven’t answered th’ question ‘bout the cap’n, though. He’s…” Jonny pales. “Y’don’ suppose the cap’n’s gone an-”

“Don’ be stupid!” Henry lightly whacks his arm. “Th’ cap’n’s not that stupid!”

Francoise sighs, taking her hat off briefly to run her hand through her hair. “An’ yet we find nary hide nor hair o’ the cap’n, but in his place we pick up this wee lad Misumi. Y’have to admit, Henry, odds ain’t lookin’ very good.”

“You think that means he’s  _ dead?! _ ”

“‘COURSE NOT!” Francoise punches his arm. “Good fuckin’ lord, Henry.”

“Still doesn’t answer where Sky could be,” Paul stresses.

“Oh, you’re talking about where Sky is! I think he’s gone from here because I touched a weird mirror so now we got switched with each other and he’s going to probably be lost in the world I came from,” Misumi supplies pleasantly. “It should be fine though as long as everyone else there doesn’t freak out.”

They all turn their heads to stare at him slowly.

“... Weird mirror.” Henry says flatly.

Jonny’s eyes sparkle. “World you came from?”

“... Sky had his cutlass with him when he fell,” Francoise recalls.

The smile drops off Misumi’s face briefly. “... Hmmm. I don’t think that’s a good thing, based on your face.”

“Misumi, are all yer crewmates as old as ye?” Henry asks him.

Misumi taps his chin thoughtfully. “Well… Kazu’s also twenty one. Yuki and M- well,  _ Not-Muku _ \- are sixteen. Tenma’s eighteen and Kumon’s seventeen.”

“You’re all  _ children,  _ oh my  _ God. _ ” Paul buries his face in his palms.

“Oh good fuckin’ Lord.” Francoise pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. Misumi thinks it makes her resemblance to Yuki even more apparent. “Let’s just hope th’ cap’n hasn’t terrorized anyone with his cutlass, then.”

Misumi hums. “I think Yuki can handle him. He’s the one who played you, after all.”

“Wait… wait, I get it now.” Paul makes Misumi face him. “You mean ‘played as’ like… a performance.”

Misumi nods vigorously.

“Ha! Played by a lad! A mighty fine actress y’got, wench!” Henry teases. Francoise kicks at his shin as she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, Yuki’s cool, don’t worry! I’m still trying to get him to make a triangular costume though,” Misumi looks back up at the flaglets. “... Can I take some of those home?”

“Y’don’ even know how to get back home, do ye?” Henry asks dryly. At Misumi’s happy little shrug, he sighs. “Jonny. Set course for Peridot Cove.”

Jonny salutes. “Aye aye, Henry. To Perid-” he stumbles briefly.” _ Peridot Cove? _ ”

“That’s the town with the biggest library that’s closest here.” Paul narrows his eyes at Henry. “Henry, don’t tell me you’re planning on ransacking the  _ library _ .”

Henry flashes Paul a charming grin that Misumi thinks looks very nice on him. “‘Course not. We’ll jus’ be doin’ a bit o’ light readin’, yeah?”

“On what?” Misumi asks.

The pink haired man turns to him. “Our cap’n’s gone, and you’re here. Tha’s not supposed to be, and I’m fearin’ some strange magic’s about. Our best bet? Readin’ an’ askin’ around for details. Savvy?”

“So there  _ is  _ a braincell in there.” Francoise knocks on the side of his head with her knuckles. “Thought I’d been th’ las’ one standin’ in terms of braincells on this here ship.”

“In your  _ dreams,  _ Franny sweetheart,” Henry coos before gesturing for Paul to pick Misumi up again. “We’re headin’ to Peridot Cove, me hearties. With the cap’n gone, I’ll be in charge for a bit, and Francoise can be th’ navigator. Jonny, Paul, stay with Misumi.”

Misumi blinks up at Henry. It’s not a very far distance, since Henry was relatively short. “Why?”

“I’ll be frank with ye - I don’ trust everythin’ y’be spewin’ to us, but there  _ are  _ things y’seem t’know.” Henry’s gaze is steely as he reaches out to lift Misumi’s chin up slightly. “So until we figure out where the cap’n went for certain or how to send you back and him back here… you’re under high surveillance. Savvy?”

Misumi salutes. “Aye aye, cap’n Henry.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Bloody Henry?”

“... Sure. Whatever.”


	13. xiii. tenma

Tenma Sumeragi, by all means, wasn’t braindead.

He was a bit of an idiot, he’d reluctantly admit to that (but never in Yuki’s presence, and  _ only  _ under extreme duress, and he’d deny ever saying it in the first place if you brought it up later on), and he had absolutely zero clue how to find his way around anywhere even if given a carefully detailed map, but he wasn’t fucking  _ braindead _ .

Alas, however, he definitely  _ felt  _ like his brain was dying at that very moment.

Kazunari had been with him only a few minutes earlier. They’d been on their way to confront Yuki and the boy that had been posing as Muku when Kazunari had elected to stay behind for a bit, intent on checking out  _ something  _ Tenma hadn’t really bothered to peek at. He’d protested, obviously, but Kazunari hadn’t really listened. So he’d gone on ahead himself.

He’d stalked past one of the rooms when he’d gotten a strange feeling, and paused in front of the door to said room, frown on his face. It was quiet in that room - the noises were coming from one of the  _ other  _ rooms, and yet he’d found himself opening the door.

A big mistake, apparently, because then he’d been drawn to a corner of the room, where he’d uncovered a mirror and found himself staring at a reflection of himself - except he’d been wearing his costume as Ali Baba instead in the mirror, instead of his current clothes.

His second big mistake had been actually  _ touching  _ the mirror’s surface.

Looking back on it now, he sorely regretted it. He didn’t even know what had compelled him to do so. He wasn’t Kazunari, who’d poke at a cursed doll for a livestream and then vlog the entire horror house chase he’d be forced to go through after, nor was he Banri, who did things for the thrill of it.

And now he was here.

Except he didn’t really know where  _ here  _ was.

He knew one thing for sure though - it was  _ hot  _ as  _ all  _ **_hell_ ** . The heat was suffocating, and he was  _ not  _ dressed for this kind of heat at  _ all _ . It was getting hard to focus, actually.

_ Where the hell am I, anyway? _

He’s not in the unused dressing room anymore. The place he’s in is still full of random knick knacks and objects, but they’re more tastefully arranged as though purposely on display, like decorations, or perhaps objects on display. The tall mirror he’d ‘gone through’ was right behind him, held against a wall and bordered by an intricate golden frame bejeweled with rubies and sapphires, and surrounding it were smaller mirrors of varying shapes and sizes, hung on the walls.

They remind him of the props and scenery for  _ Water Me,  _ in some strange way. Especially the carpets he stepped on and the glittering jewelry that were out on display. In fact, even the building itself seemed reminiscent of the architecture that had been built for the summer troupe’s first ever play. You’d be hard pressed to find a better comparison, in his opinion.

But he still didn’t know where he was.

Carefully he wanders around the delicate pottery scattered around the room, eventually finding himself at what he  _ assumed  _ was an exit, and immediately he’s hit right in the face with a suffocating wave of  _ heat _ .

So this place he was in was  _ that  _ kind of location, huh.

Swallowing, he holds a hand above his eyes to look around. It’s startlingly  _ bright  _ where he is, like the middle of the day, but there are thankfully a lot of shadowed places thanks to the buildings that made up the ‘neighborhood’. From where he’s standing, he sees people walking around, with some positioned near what he assumed were market stalls, but they’re dressed  _ nothing  _ like he is.

In this case, it meant they were dressed for the climate, and he wasn’t.

Ah, what a bad day to wear his denim jacket.

“What the- hey! What are you doing here?!”

Tenma jumps at the sound of a voice behind him, and when he turns around he’s greeted by a very large and  _ very  _ intimidating man. “I was just… looking around. I swear.”

“This is private property! You are  _ trespassing! _ ”

“... Oh, is it?” He  _ really  _ hadn’t noticed. Really. Right now, everything literally looked the same to him. Such was the perils of someone who got lost like he did. “I’m... sorry. I think I’ll just- go and get out of your hair-”

“Ohhhh no you don’t, young man.  _ You  _ are going to come with me and you’re going to go get- wait a second, what are you  _ wearing? _ ” The man peers at Tenma with a frown. “... A foreigner? A  _ trespassing  _ foreigner at that?”

His voice did not sound welcoming at all.

Tenma takes off running. It’s the first thing that occurs in his head - and probably the  _ worst  _ idea he’s had in awhile, because he hears the man shouting for help to ‘catch the trespasser’ and now suddenly everything seemed a  _ lot  _ more dire.

“There he is! The strangely-dressed foreigner!”

That probably meant him, huh. Shit.

Tenma glances over his shoulder to see a guard, no,  _ three  _ guards after him, wielding swords that made his throat ache. Despite the fact that the sun was bearing down on him and was basically causing him to burn up, he shoves past various people the best he can, muttering excuses and apologies on the way as he tried to lose the guards in the crowds.

“Don’t let him get away!” A guard crows. Tenma bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. All the roads looked the same to him, congested with people and animals and market stalls. Running and dodging at the same time would be  _ hell  _ in a handbasket.

“Hey! Over here!”

_ Huh? _

Tenma’s gaze darts around wildly. Who was calling him- ah?!

Someone had grabbed his wrist.

“This way! I know how to lose them!”

Tenma, unable to do much more than follow the stranger that had suddenly taken hold of him, runs after him the best he can, eyes wide with panic as he tries to keep up. The man’s grip on his wrist is firm as he pulls Tenma along, dodging people and market stalls as they go. All the while, Tenma tries his best to piece together where he is based on the surroundings, but honestly? His head was swirling.

Literally where the  _ hell  _ was this place, and how’d he end up here from the theater?!

“In here!” With a yelp, Tenma’s yanked into a side alley, the man putting a hand over his mouth and shushing him as they both freeze, lying in wait.

Tenma hears the sound of the sword-wielding men stomping past, yelling that ‘he went that way’ and ‘no, this way’, and his breath hitches. After a few minutes, however, the sound of their footsteps fade into the distance, allowing Tenma and the strange man to sigh in relief and relax.

“That was a close one. You ok-” The man stops, and squints at Tenma.

Self-consciously, his cheeks heat up. “W-what?”

“... You’re not Ali Baba,” is the first thing that comes out of the stranger’s mouth. “Who  _ are  _ you?”

Tenma gawks for a moment before sputtering, “Wh-  _ no,  _ of  _ course  _ I’m not Ali Baba! I’m T-” Tenma falters briefly. Was telling his real name a good idea? Who knows what this guy would do with his name? His parents had warned him over and over again about people who could namedrop him and use his name for all sorts of horrible things-

“Hold on, hooooold on. You’re  _ not  _ Ali Baba, but you  _ look  _ like him. I pulled you outta there because I thought you were Ali Baba and I owe him like… fifty favors? But you’re not him...” The man grabs Tenma’s chin and tilts his face back and forth as if to examine him. “Yeah,  _ definitely  _ look like him though. You his kid? Wait, no, you look too old to be his kid. Cousin then? Little brother?”

“What-” Tenma grabs his wrist and shoves it away from his face, mortified. “- the  _ fuck  _ are you talking about?! And don’t just do that to my face! I don’t know you!”

The man grimaces, scratching the back of his neck. “Geez, and you act a lot like Ali Baba too, huh… sorry about just grabbing your face like that. As an apology, I’ll introduce myself first!” He does a sweeping bow. “ I’m the one and only Aladdin, of course!”

…

_ Aladdin…? _

It occurs to Tenma in that very moment, now that they weren’t on the run, that Aladdin looked  _ eerily  _ similar to none other than Kazunari - save for the fact that he looked much older, most likely in his early thirties. Twenty seven at  _ least _ .

“... Oh,” Tenma says faintly. The world seemed a little hazy all of a sudden, this new knowledge weighing on his brain. Had the sun been this bright before? The back of his neck, his cheeks, his everything was burning. “Aladdin, huh…?”

“You don’t look so good,” Aladdin notes with concern. “Your face is all red… what are you wearing, anyway? This is  _ not  _ the kind of stuff you wear in hot climates.”

Was it, now?  _ Hah… that’s nice. _

His entire body burning up, Tenma passes out, Aladdin’s surprised yell fading into white noise.

* * *

When Tenma comes to, his shirt is missing. So is his jacket.

He wakes up with a gasp, sitting up immediately and looking around. He’s in a strange place again, but it’s less cluttered and more homey in feeling. The room is incredibly minimalistic, with colorful textiles decorating the walls and the floors, the pillows possessing similar embroidery and design on them. There is a small circular table next to where he’d been lying down, and folded next to the pillow he’d been resting on…

_ My shirt…  _ Tenma touches the folded up jacket and shirt with a frown.

“I see you’re awake.”

Tenma would  _ never  _ admit how loudly he’d shrieked and immediately covered himself up at the voice, wide eyes darting around for the speaker. His eyes eventually land on the form of a woman standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. Most of her face is obscured by the shade she hid herself in, so he’s unable to distinguish exactly what she looked like.

“When you’re able to, or when you’re composed enough, come and meet me in the kitchen.” She straightens up, and places a hand on her hip. “We will talk there.”

Tenma’s lips part, about to ask her something, but she already saunters off, leaving Tenma to put his shirt back on hurriedly before standing up. He takes the jacket, but he doesn’t put it on, instead opting to hold onto it in the meantime as he exits what he assumes is a bedroom.

It’s one of five rooms in the hallway, he notes. Judging from the noises coming from the door at the end, that was most likely the kitchen, so Tenma heads straight down over to it and opens the door.

The kitchen is better lit than the room he’d been in had been, allowing Tenma to see the woman’s face better as he approaches. The woman who’d spoken to him earlier was at a table, thumbing through what looked like a well-worn book with dogeared pages and an actual leather cover. On the table are two cups and a teapot of finely shaped metal.

Tenma, to put it bluntly, was  _ incredibly  _ lost. And not even just in the physical sense.

First and foremost, this woman looked eerily similar to Yuki, like a long lost relative. Her hair was a deeper shade of green and curved inwards towards the chin like Yuki’s did, but her hairstyle seemed more refined and matured in comparison. Which made sense, he supposes - she  _ was  _ a grown woman and not a brat of a teenage boy like his roommate was.

The resemblance, however, was a lot like Aladdin’s to Kazunari’s. Tenma had a feeling he knew exactly who this woman was, but his brain refused to really  _ accept  _ it at the moment, instead keeping her nameless in the meantime.

“Chairs were made for a reason, you know.”

Tenma jumps. “Uh.”

“Just sit down. I don’t bite, and you won’t get any answers, either way.”

He goes, taking a seat across from her stiffly. It’s cooler in this room than in the outside, and he wonders what made it so.

“You’re lucky, you know.”

Tenma startles, the tips of his ears turning red. Had she noticed him staring earlier? “Um. What?”

“With the racket you were making in the market, getting chased like that, you could’ve very well gotten executed on the spot for disturbing the peace. It’s a good thing Aladdin had been around to bring you here to me before they could throw you in the dungeons.” She takes hold of the teapot and pours something into the two cups before moving one of them towards Tenma. “Here. Drink.”

Tenma peers down into the cup. He’s not sure what’s in it. “Uh.”

“It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s something to help settle your stomach. You look ill.”

_ Do I?  _ Warily he takes the cup and sips. When it was clear he wasn’t going to die from drinking it, he continued to drink. Tasted a little like chicken. “What’s in it?”

“Ground scorpion legs.”

Tenma spits out the entire thing on the floor.

The woman laughs heartily as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. “You reacted the same way he did when I first made that joke when we were younger. Ah, the memories.”

“When y- wait, the same way who did?” Tenma asks, brow furrowing.

The woman smiles and closes her book, putting it down on the table. She takes her own cup into her hands and sips from it for a moment before breathing out slowly. The steam from the teapot dances between them.

“My unfortunate husband, Ali Baba, who seems to have disappeared after I sent him to buy something from the market and has left you in his place.” Her eyes are like fire rubies in the light, blazing with an unquenchable flame. “Aladdin tells me you came running from Jinan’s Jewelry and Pottery.”

Tenma recalls the place he’d first found himself in. “Ah… yeah… I didn’t. See the name of the place, so I’m not very sure, but that sounds right.” Pause. He shakes his head. “Wait, wait… okay, so.  _ Aladdin  _ brought me here?”

“You passed out thanks to heatstroke soon after the two of you evaded the guards, which is why you had to be stripped of your shirt and outer garment to cool you down in the meantime.” The woman’s fingers drum against the table. “If you’re worried as to whether or not I was the one to undress you, I made Aladdin do it. He owes me a grand number of favors.”

Tenma did not need to know that. “Okay… but then… who are you, anyway? Why’d he bring me to you? And where am I?”

“You are in the house I share with my husband and childhood friend, Ali Baba, in the kingdom of the King of kings, Shahryar. Aladdin brought you here because he trusts me to be able to care for you, and because you resemble my husband from when he was younger, uncannily so. We’ve all had experience with strange magic, and this seems to be yet another experience, so he turned to me.” She sips from her cup once more. “And my name?”

The cup is placed back down on the table, and when Tenma goes to meet her eyes, he’s reminded of the first time Yuki had ever performed his opening lines in  _ Water Me.  _ Her eyes radiated the same intensity.

“A name is capable of telling a thousand and one stories, but once you forget a name, those stories will cease to be. So pay attention to what I am about to say, and hold it close to your heart. A name is a powerful thing, after all. I tell Ali Baba this many, many times.”

Tenma’s heart stutters. He can only nod, in awe.

It seemed to be the right reaction, because the woman smiles. “I am known by friend and foe alike as Scheherazade. Now tell me, stranger… what is _your_ name, and what brings you here? And most importantly..." Her lips purse thoughtfully. "... do you know where Ali Baba is?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me at 3 30am like a clown: HAAAHAAAHEEEHEEHOOOHOOOO [autotune screaming as i write this]
> 
> anyway
> 
> public service announcement: i have a crush on henry, francoise, and scheherazade and it gets more evident the longer i write, stay tuned


	14. xiv. kumon

Kumon Hyodo was no stranger to  _ isekai _ .

Any self-respecting  _ chuunibyou  _ believed in the concept of alternate realities as seen through precious artifacts such as the mythical All Seeing Eye, the Seer of Worlds, or perhaps the amazing and mystical Bejeweled Gauntlet of The Amethyst Tyrant that could send anyone of choice to another location, even the self. It was a given.

Well, that, and he’s seen anime and been on the Internet like most kids. Isekai happened to be a fairly popular genre, after all - and in his opinion, everyone has imagined at least  _ once  _ in their lives that they’d get accidentally transported into another world of fantastical events and occurrences as a break from their mundane everyday life.

Kumon did, a few times, wish that he’d get taken to a strange new world. But nowadays he was quite happy with the world he was in - the world where his brother and his cousin, his troupe and his friends, all existed happily with him, and he was there sharing happiness with them. Besides, who needed to get spirited away to a new world where you had to be someone else when on stage they  _ were  _ essentially in new worlds entirely, playing new roles?

So really, the  _ instant  _ he’d picked up on an evil presence lurking around, he’d gone off to ‘heroically’ intercept it and save Misumi the trouble. And what else would he have found but a strange mirror - one that didn’t show  _ him,  _ but rather, showed him dressed as Souta Akiyama from  _ First Crush Baseball…  _ otherwise known as the most normal character Kumon had ever played on stage.

Still, the fact that his reflection didn’t line up with his current appearance already  _ spoke  _ of weird happenings, and Kumon knew something would happen if he so much as  _ touched  _ the mirror, so he’d turned away from it, and deliberately walked away-

\- only to run back and stare at himself - no,  _ Souta _ \- again, before laughing to himself and walking away once more.

… is what he would have  _ liked  _ to have happened, except… he’d tripped on his own shoelaces on the way back towards the mirror, and ended up toppling face first into it. He’d been anticipating his face meeting cold glass, but the instant he  _ didn’t,  _ he  _ knew  _ something had happened.

And then he’d ended up kissing a dusty old wooden floor.

“Pah! Bleugh!” Kumon blanches, frantically attempting to scrub off the dust on his lips - and the rest of his face. Once he’s satisfied with how much he’d brushed off, he looks around, pushing himself up into a sitting position and resting on his heels, palms on his thighs.

The room he’s in is frighteningly similar to the room he’d been in prior, but this one seemed more like an attic than an unused dressing room based on the shape of the ceiling. Misumi probably would’ve adored it, considering how triangular it was.

Boxes and furniture covered in cloth surrounded him, cobwebs and dust coating all of them like a second layer. When he looks behind him, there is only a wardrobe with a long mirror that he’s guessing paralleled the mirror he’d stumbled through, but when he looks at his reflection it’s his actual reflection instead.

Souta Akiyama is nowhere to be seen.

Kumon hears something hit the floor - but from  _ under  _ him, and a few feet away from him. And then suddenly a trapdoor props itself open, stirring up dust and dirt and dislodging a few cobwebs. He coughs, waving away the clouds of dust as a head pops up.

A very  _ familiar  _ one.

“I told you we’d find him in here,” Hikaru Washimiya says. It’s  _ jarring  _ to see her, actually, considering the fact that she and Yuki shared a face, but when he looked longer and closer he could pick out what made her different.

Yuki’s hair curved inward in a mostly even cut, locks of hair typically hiding his ears away from sight. Hikaru, on the other hand, had hair in a much more vibrant shade of green - emerald where Yuki’s was jade - and was kept in a much messier cut, the ends flaring out while two long locks of hair hung in front of both her ears.

It’s weird seeing Hikaru in something that’s not her baseball uniform, even though Kumon knows for a fact Yuki had put on something like casual wear for her at some point near the end of the play. But it’s still an experience to see her in something  _ Yuki  _ would wear on a daily basis as someone else squeezes in next to her.

“Oh! S-Souta!” Jin Ono greets, eyes wide. Now between Jin and Muku, Jin had  _ worse  _ hair overall, shaggier and sticking out everywhere. His eyes were droopier than Muku’s, making him look even  _ more  _ timid than Muku did, but they’re just as bright as Muku’s. “I’m glad… I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Kumon blinks wildly. “Uh. Why would. I be… dead?”

“That’s what  _ I  _ want to know,” Hikaru balls up one of her hands into a fist and gives Jin a noogie, making the pink haired boy wail in protest before she looks back at Kumon. “Either way. Come on. You don’t have to hole yourself up here anymore. We got that damn idiot to come to his senses already, so all you have to do is come back down.”

Kumon had absolutely  _ no  _ idea what she was talking about.

“... Huh?!” Jin yelps. Oh. Had he said that out loud? “Wait- what do you mean you don’t know what- Hika, could this be- ow!”

Another noogie to the head. “Whatever it is you’re thinking happened, it’s probably an out-of-this-world one. So no, it could  _ not  _ be.” Kumon sees her eyes flicker to him, and sees something like unease cross her face. “... Akiyama.”

“Y-yes?”

“Are you alright?” Kumon’s startled by the sudden softness in her voice. It reminds him of Yuki, but also reminds him of the director in a way. Which made sense - she  _ did  _ manage the baseball club. “You and Inoue don’t usually fight like that.”

“Yeah, that’s more Hika's and Ryou's thing- don’t bonk me again!” Jin shrieks, ducking away when Hikaru’s fist aims at his head again. “It’s true!”

Hikaru rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment as she turns to Kumon again. “You boys are so stupid sometimes, it’s unreal, but what can you do?”

“I... um.” Kumon, for once, was at a loss for words.  _ First Crush Baseball  _ was a play that focused on the team’s road to the championship - the  _ Koshien _ \- and the bonds they’d established as a team, and Souta’s personal growth as a player and as a person. That, and it’d been inspired from Kumon’s own experiences.

Tsuzuru hadn’t said  _ anything  _ about the worldbuilding. Tsuzuru’s script - it never mentioned this attic, this wardrobe, this mirror. This Hikaru, who bantered with what seemed to be a slightly stronger willed Jin, and this Souta, who’d apparently established enough of a bond with Ryou that the others could say what was a ‘standard’ of fighting for them.

He literally had  _ no  _ idea what to say.

Hikaru pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, and Kumon has to choke back a laugh at how  _ exactly  _ like Yuki she looked like in that moment. “Come on, you big baby. Do you want us to hold your hands the whole way down?”

“Grk.”

“I’m guessing that’s a yes…” Jin murmurs, holding out a hand. Hikaru holds out one of her own, and Kumon crawls over, taking hold of both of them. Carefully the two step down what Kumon soon discovers is a ladder, guiding Kumon along until finally he’s back on another floor. When he looks around, he’s slightly taken aback by the similarities of the hallway to that of his own house.

_ The walls, the floors…  _ Kumon’s eyes dart around.  _ Even the rooms are arranged just like at home…?! _

What the  _ hell? _

He feels a tugging on his wrist, and Kumon realizes that Hikaru’s pulling him along and down the stairs, Jin holding up the rear. Had she been talking this whole time? “- and then he just straight up punched a hole in the wall.”

“Wait-” Kumon shakes his head before blinking twice. “Who did what now?”

“Your dumbass of a-” Hikaru stops suddenly, looking behind Kumon, and when he glances behind him he sees Jin waving and shaking his head wildly before pretending as if he hadn’t been doing so before Kumon had turned around. When he turns back to face Hikaru, the girl’s face is twisted into a grimace. “- a… catcher. Your dumbass of a catcher punched a hole in the wall while you were up there.”

Kumon’s eyes widen. He knew Ryou Inoue was Tenma’s character and the catcher of the Inoue-Akiyama battery, but he hadn’t really expected him to have… well. Done  _ that _ . “Why did he-”

“He really regrets upsetting you!” Jin interrupts. “Kind of called himself an idiot fifty times. Which is a mood.”

Hikaru sighs. “Enomoto has a recording of the whole thing if you want to see since he was playing an AR game on his phone at the time, but your mom’s not exactly very happy about the broken wall. You might want to talk to her first before talking to Inoue.”

“Shouldn’t he talk to Ryou first?” Jin asks. “He’s been waiting for an hour.”

“He can wait a few more minutes,” Hikaru snaps. “He deserves to wait after having made Souta cry like that, after all. Stubborn boy.”

_ Wait… Ryou made Souta cry?  _ Kumon can’t imagine what Ryou could’ve said to Souta to have made him cry and literally hide up in an  _ attic,  _ so he’s a bit wary of what could happen next. From what he understood, Ryou and Souta had known each other for years - so the possibilities of what could have deeply hurt Souta were _limitless_.

Jin hums thoughtfully. “That’s fair, that’s fair… waaah, I’m glad you’re not mad at me, Hika.”

“Don’t call me Hika, or I’ll call you Jiji.”

“But I’m not an old man-!”

“Exactly.”

Kumon chokes a little on a giggle. The dynamic between Hikaru and Jin was- well, it was  _ definitely  _ somewhat different from how Yuki and Muku worked, but Kumon could pick up on their closeness. They were definitely good friends - and, if the way they’d come to get him (well,  _ Souta _ ) was any indication, they were good friends with Souta too.

He wonders if telling them he’s not exactly Souta is a good idea.

“Well. Anyway. You should probably talk things out with your mom first. And  _ then  _ we’ll take you to Inoue.” Hikaru gets off the last step on the stairs and grabs Kumon by the shoulders, turning him towards a doorway. He knows it’s the kitchen, somehow - the layout of Souta’s house seemed to be the exact same as his.

It’s eerie.

When he glances back at Jin and Hikaru, they make shooing motions at him, and with a swallow he steels himself for what he would find in the kitchen-

“Sou.”

Kumon’s voice lodges itself in his throat.

The woman sitting at the table - Mrs. Akiyama - looked exactly like his mother, Mrs. Nanaki Hyodo. The same hair, the same eyes, the same wrinkles at the corners of her eyes that got more pronounced whenever she smiled so earnestly and so caringly at either him or his older brother.

“M… mom...” Kumon murmurs. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar on his tongue - he  _ knows  _ this isn’t his mother, but they looked so similar that despite his mind screaming that it wasn’t her, he let his heart believe it for that moment.

Mrs. Akiyama smiles at him before frowning at his appearance. “Did you climb up in the attic again? Hid in the old wardrobe again, I’m guessing? Oh, never mind, come over here,” she gestures with a hand, and on instinct Kumon follows, sitting on the chair she pulls up next to her. She fusses over him and picks at his hair as she says, “You always did like to hide up there when you got upset and knew we’d find you in your room… oh, there’s a spider in your hair.”

Kumon flinches as Mrs. Akiyama plucks at his head and flicks the offending arachnid away.

“Honestly… you and Ryou have always been so alike, ever since you were kids…” the woman murmurs. The way she tucks a lock of hair behind Kumon’s ear reminds him so much of his own mother that his breath stutters slightly when she pulls out another cobweb stuck in his hair. “He’s like another son to me… I’m glad you two worked things out.”

“Y… yeah…” Kumon stutters. What else could he do? He couldn’t tell her he wasn’t Souta right now - who  _ knew  _ what would happen? “Um… I heard he punched a hole in the wall?”

The woman laughs. “It’s in the living room if you want to see. Your father will insist on getting it patched up, definitely, because rats could come in through there, but until then I’ll be hanging a painting over it.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m disappointed,” Mrs. Akiyama corrects. “But I’m not mad. Besides, I already gave him a stern talking to and he’d already gotten on his knees and apologized to me, so it’s all better for now. Of course… I’ll still have to tell his parents what he did, but that’s for later.”

Kumon gawks at her. “Um.”

“Close your mouth, Sou, you’ll catch flies like that.” She pushes Kumon’s chin up and closes his mouth before nodding. “You should probably go ease that poor boy’s misery now. I’m sure his guilt is eating him up with how long he’s spent regretting what he’s said to you.”

It takes him a bit to process that she means Ryou, and with an awkward, stilted nod that made him resemble Juza he stumbles to his feet before bowing formally to her. “U-um-! Thanks, Mom. I- I’ll go talk to Ino-  _ Ryou  _ now.”

Why the heck did he have to stumble on his words like that. Banri would’ve laughed at him.

Something flashes in Mrs. Akiyama’s eyes, but he doesn’t notice it as she giggles. “Just go already. I still have to work on dinner.”

_ Dinner… right. _ It was the afternoon when he’d fallen through the mirror. When he glances at the clock he hears ticking nearby above the kitchen’s doorframe, the time is exactly as it is in his actual world.  _ Nearing dinner… _

As he heads for the door, he hears Souta’s mother call out, “Oh, Sou?”

“Yes Mom?” Kumon says, turning around to look at her. Maybe he should’ve been more concerned that ‘mom’ rolls off his tongue so effortlessly, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now.

“You’d tell me if there was something wrong, right?” She asks him. “If you had any problems… that kind of thing, right? You wouldn’t hide anything from me?’

Kumon blinks at her. “... No, Mom. I wouldn’t.”

“...” Mrs. Akiyama smiles at him knowingly, and Kumon in that instant has a feeling she’s already aware he’s not Souta Akiyama. Just a gut feeling. It’s the twinkle in her eye, the smile on her face…  _ but if she knows I’m not Souta, then why…? _ “Alright, Sou. Go give Ryou a big hug from me once you two have made up, alright?”

“Um. Okay. I will. Thanks Mom.”

Kumon leaves the kitchen feeling unsettled, a strange feeling churning in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter was a struggle because i literally have ZERO braincells about first crush baseball except for the fact that i believe in their team supremacy and closeness
> 
> that, and because kumon is thrust into such a normal world unlike the rest of natsugumi;;;;; i hope i didn't write it too badly
> 
> i'm using their first names when i write here, because my brain is somewhat more used to it, and i think that over time the team had gotten to using first names with each other when not in school or competition settings (like home)
> 
> as always thank u for checking out this crack taken seriously of a fic <3 it means the world to me that you took the time to read it


	15. xv. five idiots and a yuki

Yuki, to be quite frank with you, currently had a killer headache.

And who could blame him, really, when at present he was dealing with not one, not three, but  _ five  _ idiots resembling his troupe mates from five completely different worlds in one place while dealing with the fact that his  _ actual  _ troupe mates were in  _ their  _ worlds instead and could possibly be in big trouble. While in an outfit that was getting  _ less  _ cute by the minute the longer it was on his person - which was a first, mind you. Most things looked absolutely adorable when he wore them.

This shirt was going to get absolutely  _ scrapped  _ after this ordeal.  _ Thank you for nothing, you useless catboy. _

It was one thing to have to hide Florence. At least Yuki’d already proven that he could handle hiding the prince in plain sight, give or take. He couldn’t negotiate the hair, but that was explainable. He was just plain lucky that Muku wanted to be a prince in the first place.

Kuro? Probably would’ve pulled it off, give or take a few drastic wardrobe changes to hide the tail specifically. Maybe even the ears as well, but that one they probably could’ve excused as a trend Kazunari was getting in on. The posture he’d probably have to ask Florence for help on - the prince probably had etiquette lessons at some point.

_ Souta  _ would’ve been the easiest to hide with how similar he was to Kumon. It was  _ very  _ frightening how similar they were, actually. If Yuki hadn’t known better, he would’ve said it was still Kumon with them, just in a baseball outfit out of season.

But now- now he had to deal with Ali Baba and Captain Sky too? Two characters who Yuki was  _ sure  _ were supposed to be adults in their respective worlds, but were now  _ not  _ adults and were basically Tenma and Misumi’s ages at present, and still dressed as they were in their respective plays?

_ Oy vey. _

Briefly, Yuki wonders what he’d done to deserve this kind of karma, just as Ali Baba’s dagger goes flying above Souta’s head and gets stuck in the wall.

Ali Baba stares at Sky, who’d disarmed him in a matter of seconds. “Son of a bitch.”

Sky gives Ali Baba a fanged grin, which is  _ mildly  _ frightening given that currently he had Misumi’s face, only for the pirate to yelp and let go of his cutlass as Kuro absolutely  _ bodies  _ him with a running leap to his side, knocking over a few boxes and stirring up even  _ more  _ dust and props everywhere.

“Fuck-” Ali Baba steps back a few, unintentionally pushing Souta back and away from the mess. The boy can only back away along with him, honestly still bewildered and terrified and quite frankly overwhelmed by the whole ordeal. It was obvious on his face that he had absolutely  _ no  _ idea what was going on, only really going along with Ali Baba’s words because he didn’t know what  _ else  _ to do.

Florence winces, waving with a hand towards Ali Baba and Souta to get their attention. The two of them look at him as he speaks. “You two should probably move over here before they-”

“PAUL?!”

Sky’s voice pierces the air - disbelieving, and maybe just a little bit despairing. Yuki’s not particularly sure. The pirate holds up Kuro by the biceps before crying out, “PAUL, BY DAVY JONES’S BEARD, WHO TURNED YE INTO A CAT PERSON?!”

Kuro’s response to that is agitated hissing and clawing at Sky’s face before kicking him in the face. It does nothing to deter Sky from holding him up like Simba. The catboy only writhes in his hold, hissing and spitting.

Yuki thinks he might have popped a blood vessel. Or five.

“Petalbrain,” Yuki says through gritted teeth. Florence looks at him. “Tell grape soda and twinkle toes over there to cover their ears.”

“Grape soda and twinkle- you mean those two?” Florence looks over at Ali Baba and Souta. Souta, presently, was looking up at Ali Baba with conflicting emotions on his face, while Ali Baba seemed determined  _ not  _ to look at him, focusing only on the scuffle between Kuro and Sky. “Why?”

“Just do it. And you cover your ears too afterwards.”

Florence frowns, but elects not to question it further as he cups his hands around his mouth and calls out. “Hey! You two over there! Cover your ears!”

“Hah?” Ali Baba looks over. “You talking to us?”

“Yes! Please, cover your ears!”

Souta, while confused, goes and lifts his hands to his ears. Ali Baba does the same, as does Florence, already bracing himself.

Yuki inhales sharply and stalks towards Sky and Kuro. The two of them are too engaged in their weird human and cat ‘fight’ to notice him until his hands have already pulled on  _ both  _ their ears, tugging them down and causing them both to cry out in surprise and pain. With Kuro, Yuki was a little more gentle - cat ears were more delicate, after all.

“Both of you. Will listen to me.  _ Right now _ .” A tug on both their ears. Kuro almost spits in his face, but a well-timed glare in his direction makes him falter. Yuki’s voice raises in volume. “Neither of you are going to  _ fight  _ each other, so claws  _ in- _ ” he glares at Kuro.

Kuro sheathes his claws.

Yuki looks at Sky next. “- and cutlass  _ sheathed. _ Neither of you are going to fucking  _ speak  _ until I am  _ finished  _ explaining to the  _ best  _ of my ability what the  _ fuck  _ is happening right now to  _ all of you- _ ” he gestures to the other three standing to the side, surprisingly behaved. “- or so help me God-”

“I am going to fucking string you all up by the underwear-” Florence bites his lip.

“- on the clothesline in the courtyard for Matsukawa to find-” Ali Baba, despite not knowing who Matsukawa was, grimaces.

“- and make you wish that I’d turned you into mannequins instead for my next projects while you  _ writhe  _ under the glare of the sun.” Souta cowers at that. “Do you  **_understand_ ** ?”

Kuro’s tail lashes, his face sullen, but he doesn’t protest. Yuki lets go of his ear, and the catboy slinks back to Florence, who reaches out to pet him but immediately pulls back when Kuro snaps at his hand. Souta, morbidly curious, stares at him with wide eyes. Ali Baba only steps away a bit from him as a precaution.

Sky, however, is another story.

Yuki watches with narrowed eyes as the pirate stands up and squints at him. “Francoise? … Didn’t think you could shrink any more than you already have, lass.”

In response, Yuki stomps on his foot. Hard. Souta muffles his gigglesnort with both hands when Sky yelps and hops back.

“I’m going to get one thing clear right now.” Yuki’s gaze swivels to the rest of them before focusing on Sky. “Whoever you think I am… I’m not. And whoever you think the others are… are  _ not _ . I am  _ not  _ Francoise, nor am I Shiro, or Rose, or Scheherazade, or Washimiya. I may have been them once, but that’s because I played as them, because they were  _ characters  _ in a play I participated in. So keep that in mind. Do you understand? Any questions?”

Souta shakily raises a hand.

Yuki sighs. “... Shoot.”

“What do you mean…  _ characters? _ ” Souta asks, wringing his wrists. “Like… when people put on historical plays and they’re like… playing written interpretations of actual people?”

Ali Baba stares at him. “Who  _ does  _ that?”

“Shut your trap, twinkle toes.” Ali Baba makes an offended noise at that as Yuki focuses on Souta. In the background, he hears Sky trying to pry his cutlass out from where it’d embedded itself in the floor. “As for your question, you just compared a play to a historical play, but I get what you’re trying to say. It’s more or less like that.”

Sky pipes up, repeating, “More or less?”

“...” Yuki massages his temples for a few moments. Was he really that keen on giving fictional characters an existential crisis today?

Florence coughs into his fist, and Yuki remembers that he’d already given The Talk to him before everyone else.  _ Right.  _ “We’re not real people. We are versions of fictional characters given life by a playwright that Yuki knows, and were played by actors like Yuki.”

Silence.

“So wait… then why do you look like…” Ali Baba looks Yuki up and down. “... no, actually. Why do you look like my best friend but like when she was younger?”

Yuki gives him an unimpressed frown. “Because I played Scheherazade in our play,  _ Water Me _ . You, on the other hand, look like the hack because he played as you. Tell me, have you noticed anything different about yourself?”

“Not that I’m-” Ali Baba checks himself, and then loudly yells, “WHY AM I A KID AGAIN?!”

Kuro’s ears flatten against the sides of his head as he glares at Ali Baba with slitting eyes. “Watch it, you walking windchime, you’re louder to me because of these ears.”

“Y’CAN TALK?!” Sky yells almost right in Yuki’s ear, pointing at Kuro.

“What the hell do mew think I am, mrraa?! A mouse?!”

“QUIET!” Yuki thunders, silencing all of them again. “I’m not going to repeat this over and over again unless necessary, because I -  _ we  _ \- literally don’t have time for this right now. You’re all here because for some  _ stupid  _ reason, you ended up getting switched with my  _ actual  _ troupe mates. Reasons unknown still, Florence and I were looking for the reasons until you all showed up simultaneously.”

“He showed up first?” Souta asks, looking at Florence. “Who’s he? And if he’s a play character too, what’s his about?”

Florence smiles a princely, pleasant smile as he turns to Souta, and Yuki watches as Souta’s eyes sparkle and his cheeks flush slightly.  _ Leave it to Florence to unintentionally put on the charm again. Stupid literal prince charming.  _ “I’m the first one Yuki had to deal with. I am Prince Florence of the floral kingdom, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“A prince…?” Ali Baba wrinkles his nose, and Yuki instantly remembers that his best friend slash wife had nearly been forced into a king’s harem. Made sense that he wasn’t too keen on royalty. “Why’s he dressed like that, then?”

Florence tugs on the shirt, looking down at it. The words ‘ _ I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me’  _ stretch as he does so. “Yuki needed me to pose as the one who played as me, his beloved Muku.”

“Wh-” Yuki  _ hates  _ that his cheeks flare up at that. “I didn’t say that!”

“You said that I needed to pretend to be Muku and fool everyone else.”

“T-that part’s true, but-!”

“... Oh!” Florence blinks at him. “Was I mistaken then?”

“Mistaken on what?” Kuro asks, ears pricked.

Yuki harrumphs, crossing his arms before shaking his head.  _ Damn you, petalbrain.  _ “Anyway, what he says is true. I needed him to pretend to be Muku because everyone’s going to question why Muku isn’t here but Florence is, and since they virtually looked the same, it was easy to at least pass him off as Muku temporarily until we found a way to get him back home. But now that all of you are here…”

“You’re going to have to do the same thing for all of us, huh?” Souta guesses. “We’re gonna have to pretend to be the people we’re supposed to be until we can find our way back home somehow and swap back with the people we swapped with?”

Yuki nods. “That’d be right, yeah. It would’ve been harder if Sky and Ali Baba here had remained their actual ages in their own world, because I can’t hide Tenma and Misumi suddenly being  _ taller _ .”

“I still don’t get that, by the way.” Ali Baba says. “Why’d we like. Get younger?”

“If I knew, you’d all already be on the way back home, dumbass,” Yuki snaps. God. When Tsuzuru had said that he’d written the  _ Water Me  _ characters with the actual actors in mind, he wasn’t kidding in the slightest, was he? Ali Baba reminded Yuki viscerally of Tenma with his mannerisms - so much that he wanted to sock him in the jaw. “Anyway… I don’t have extra clothes on me, so we’re going to have to sneak back into the dorms into one of the Summer Troupe’s rooms to change you guys all out of those clothes, and into normal clothes.”

Souta looks down at himself. “What’s wrong with mine?”

“And mine?” Sky adds.

“I don’t need a change of clothes,” Kuro purrs.

“It’s not baseball season, pirates shouldn’t be walking around in broad daylight, and you are a fucking  _ furry _ .” Yuki points at each of them in turn before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re all going to have to tell me what you were doing before you ended up in another world - this world - so we can all try and piece together something to get you back home later. But for now, I just straight up need to get you guys back to the dorms without causing a scene.”

Silence passes for a good long while before Souta’s eyes suddenly widen in realization. He taps his fist on his palm with an excited grin. “Holy  _ shit,  _ isn’t this literally an  _ isekai?! _ ”

Yuki palms his face with both hands and drags them down his cheeks in a frustrated groan.


	16. xvi. stealth 100

“So wait, Souta gets to walk around without anything on him except for the box in his hands, but  _ we  _ have to wear  _ these? _ ”

Yuki turns around before they exit the theater, facing Ali Baba. “If you haven’t picked up on it yet, most people don’t walk around practically  _ shirtless,  _ twinkle toes. The climate here is different, and we need to be more  _ discreet _ .”

“... I’m sorry, but how are sheets like these more discreet than just openly walking around in what people will think are costumes?” Souta tugs on the cloth draped around Kuro like robes that resemble Hisoka’s costume in  _ Sympathy for an Angel _ . “It kinda calls more attention, to be honest… no offense. If I were in an  _ isekai,  _ which I technically am, this would be a bad job at hiding identities… no offense again.”

“He’s right,” Florence admits. Unlike the rest of them, since he was already in casual attire he didn’t need a sheet to hide himself. To sell the alibi, he too was carrying a box. “Why not just let them walk around as is? We can’t possibly look any more suspicious suddenly carrying out boxes from this place back to the dormitories.”

Yuki scowls, tapping his foot on the ground. “Like I said. You’d draw just as much attention with and without the cloth because it’s not the season for the summer troupe, and also because furrycon reject over here literally has trouble adjusting to the fact that his bone structure’s different now.”

“Mew can’t blame me! Your bones are all  _ wrong, _ ” Kuro complains, looking down at himself. He almost stumbles when he tries to take a step, but Souta nudges him back upright with a shoulder. “Thank mew. I can walk upright just fine if I was still a cat, mind you.”

“Then that means you can walk on your own two human legs,” Yuki says flatly. “Come on then, all of you. These boxes will sell the image of us just being members of MANKAI moving things between the theater and the dorm. They won’t bat an eye at that.”

Sky rattles the box in his hold. His pirate hat, sitting on top of said box, nearly falls off, but he nudges it back into place. “These old things? They be no real treasure of monetary worth. Unless yer takin’ them somewhere that trades ‘em in?”

“They used to be worth much more, in their primetime, and when they were still at their best. They could’ve been collector’s items had they been treated right.” Yuki corrects. “But since their time has passed, and it’d be a waste to just throw everything away, I picked out some things I thought could still be saved. We did this for Florence earlier, and those things are in my room right now with Tenma.”

“And you think it’s going to work again,” Kuro says flatly. His tail thrashes in displeasure. “Really.”

“It  _ will  _ if people just think you’re all helping me. So shut up, zip it, can it, all of those verbs, and make sure you don’t say a word the whole time.” Pause. “Souta, lend Kuro your cap for now.”

Souta does so, but it takes a little bit of adjustment on Kuro’s end for the cap to properly hide the ears - that is, he folds his ears the best he can over each other, pressed as flat as he can against his head.

“I feel stupid,” Kuro deadpans. “It feels all wrong. Can I tear holes into it for my ears?”

Souta looks scandalized as Yuki shakes his head. “The point is to  _ hide  _ your ears.”

“But it’s annoying and I feel stupid with it on.”

Yuki sighs deeply. “Suck it up then, because we’re all feeling stupid right now, furrycon reject. That’s the best we can get for now, so all of you brace yourselves.”

“For what?” Kuro asks, only to immediately hiss when the afternoon sun immediately glares down on all of them as they step outside. Yuki watches his eyes immediately slit as cats’ eyes do in bright light. “ _ Ah. _ ”

Ali Baba stares at the people on Veludo Way, immediately wary. He takes a step back behind Florence as his hold on his box tightens. “You weren’t kidding when you said they don’t dress like we do.”

“You’d think it would’ve gotten stuck in your brain already when you saw me and Florence,” Yuki deadpans before gesturing for them to follow him. “Stick close by. It’s only a short walk, but I literally don’t trust any of you to not get into trouble somehow-”

“Yuki?”

Yuki swears violently in his head at the voice, and his otherworldly entourage all turn to look at the newcomer that had approached them. “Motormouth.”

“Still that nickname? I should really get to work on getting you to change that.” Miki Asakura laughs pleasantly as he looks at the others with a smile. “How about ‘flyer king’?”

“No.”

“Aw, okay. Shot down yet again by Rurikawa as usual~ how typical.”

“What do you want, Miki?” Yuki’s voice is sharp and to-the-point as he narrows his eyes slightly at his fellow summer troupe member.

As part of the ensemble cast and a fellow student of St. Flora, Yuki and Muku often saw Miki around more often than one normally saw the other ensemble cast members. He didn’t tag along very often with them, however, preferring the company of the spring troupe’s Iku whenever possible. They  _ did  _ greet him in the halls if they ever passed him, however.

“I don’t really  _ want  _ anything, per say,” Miki draws out deliberately, acting oh-so casual about the whole thing - at least in Yuki’s eyes. “Iku saw you guys coming out from the theater and I thought ‘hey, wouldn’t it be great to hang with them this afternoon, Iku?’, so here we are.”

All six of them look behind him, and then back at him again.

Yuki’s the one who speaks, however, an eyebrow raised. “Iku’s not with you. Has your brain been swapped out for a motor as well?”

“He went to buy something from the convenience store, he should be catching up to us right about-” Miki glances behind him. “-now, actually. Hey Iku! Over here!”

Yuki glances again behind Miki to see the blue haired boy running over, a plastic bag in his hand and a smile on his face. He skids to a stop next to Miki before producing what looked like a bottle of orange juice, handing it over to the other before facing Yuki.

“Hey guys!” Iku greets warmly. “Sorry if I’m like, barging in on summer troupe bonding time or anything. I can leave if you guys want, I’ve been hanging out with Miki all day today anyway.”

Yuki bites the inside of his cheek lightly. “No, it’s fine, but just to make it clear, we’re not hanging out today. This is business.”

“That might explain the boxes,” Miki notes. “Need some-”

“No.”

Miki laughs. “Shot down and rejected before I could even say it. Chivalry in this day and age really is well and dead.”

“Chivalry is only as dead as you believe it to be,” Florence interjects before immediately shutting up, realizing what he’d just done. Yuki would have shot him a dirty look had Miki not looked at him with a knowing grin. “... Sorry.”

Iku perks up. “Wow, no self-deprecating lines after an apology? You’re definitely getting better, Muku. That’s a good thing, by the way. I’m glad!”

“Um…” Florence sweats a little. “... Thank you?”

“We really have to go now,” Yuki stresses. “Thanks for the offer, but you two can enjoy the rest of your afternoon undisturbed while we tromp back to the dorms with these things.”

Miki’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he sips from his juice. “Okay then. Guess we’re being chased off yet again, Iku. Not that I really mind since I’m spending time with you.”

“But you spend time with me all the time?”

“Exactly~! So, do you want to go to the park?”

“Uh, sure! Um- Yuki,” he turns to face Yuki. “You’re really sure you don’t need our help?”  At Yuki’s shake of the head, Iku scratches his cheek before saying, “Well… if you’re sure. You have Miki’s number anyway, right? Just call us if you end up ever needing more help! We’ll be at the park!”

Yuki sighs. “Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome! Always happy to offer help as needed! Come on, Miki!” Yuki only watches as Iku takes hold of Miki’s hand and pulls the other boy along, Miki saluting them lazily before running alongside his friend, still hand in hand with him. It takes the two of them disappearing around the street corner for the ‘summer troupe’ to finally relax and breathe a sigh of relief, allowing Yuki to turn around and face them.

“Now do you see why it’s important we figure out how to properly disguise all of you?” Yuki asks. “You’re lucky it was just Miki and Iku that approached us just now. That was a dry run, and so far they didn’t notice anything different with any of you - except for ‘Muku’.”

Florence sighs. “Sorry about earlier. I spoke without thinking.”

“It was in character, at least, to pipe up suddenly about something you’re passionate about. Muku did that to me once, talking about how falling in love was a wonderful thing.” Yuki sighs, shifting his grip on the box into a better one. “Either way. We can deal with that later. Let’s just get these in already, the dorm is literally  _ right  _ there.”

* * *

Reentering the dorms is a quiet affair. With no one except Matsukawa and a preening Kamekichi in the living room, there was little to no attention given to their appearance - well, besides Matsukawa offering to take the boxes himself to put in the storage room later. For once, Yuki didn’t argue with him as he went and collected the boxes from the six of them and set them next to the couch for later before promptly taking a nap.

Thanks to that, the six of them were free to pass by the main living area without anything on hand to bother them until they reached the corner that rounded off into the courtyard. With no one around to stop him, Kuro had elected to drop back down on all fours for easier walking as they carefully headed towards the courtyard-

“Stop!” Yuki hisses, skidding to a stop right before the corner.

They all try to stop, but end up bumping into each other clumsily when they do.

Daring to peek around the corner, Yuki sees Izumi chatting up Sakyo with a bright grin on her face and groans.  _ Great. If she’s ranting about curry to him, we could be here all afternoon and somebody else could spot us in the meantime. Just  _ **_great_ ** _. _

“We have company,” Yuki informs them tersely.

“Two of them,” Kuro hisses. Yuki feels him tense by his thigh, the catboy poised to strike, hackles raised slightly. He poises a leg in front of Kuro as a warning -  _ don’t fucking move, Kuro. _ “Two people. Male, female… both unfamiliar to me.”

“You can see from here?!” Souta whispers from his place behind him, struck dumb.

Kuro sniffs. “I smelled them on the air. One of them smells like… something strange, like paper, but not really. The other one smells like… meat, I think. And potatoes?”

Yuki shushes them. “The director and the yakuza. You’re smelling curry on the director and  _ probably  _ money on Sakyo. The paper kind of money. Of  _ course  _ they’re unfamiliar because none of you are  _ from  _ this world and only Florence has technically met them so far.”

“The  _ paper _ kind?” Ali Baba echoes.

“ _ Yakuza?!”  _ Souta yelps, a little too loudly. Right. Souta had come from a normal, modern world. He’s definitely heard of yakuza.  _ God dammit _ .

Yuki dares to peek around the corner again, and freezes when Sakyo looks around. “What was that?”

“Huh? I didn’t hear anythi- oh!” Izumi’s eyes meet Yuki’s, and a smile crosses her face. She claps her hands together. “Yuki! It’s just you! What’re you doing over there?”

Sakyo relaxes by a hair as he turns to face Yuki. “Rurikawa. Didn’t take you to be the type to skulking around.”

“Takes a skulker to know a skulker, money grubbing yakuza,” Yuki retorts, but he makes no move to go any closer to either Sakyo or Izumi. When he glances back at the unlikely group he’d gathered, they’re all frozen in fear, afraid of moving. Ali Baba had consequently slapped both his hands on his mouth while Florence was deathly still, a hand over Souta’s mouth. Kuro’s hackles were raised, and Sky looked like he was poised to attack, a hand inching towards his cutlass. They were all looking to Yuki for a signal.

“Yuki?” Izumi calls in concern.

Yuki peeks around the corner again. “Yeah?”

“... Are you okay?”

“Never better.”

Sakyo raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “If you brought home a stray animal, just bring it out already. You’re terrible at hiding things.”

“A stray animal? Really, Sakyo.”

_ Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit-  _ Yuki swallows harshly before retreating behind the wall to face the other five again, still looking at him. “Okay, so. Let’s clarify a few things. Only Florence knows so far how to really act like the person he looks like. Right?”

They all nod.

“I gave you guys the barebones rundown of the people you resemble, but that’s not enough to really  _ play  _ them properly.”

Nod.

“... Fuck. Alright. Listen,” Yuki’s eyes dart to the side as if checking on Sakyo before saying, “On my signal, run in different directions.”

“What?!” Souta nearly yells again, but because of Florence’s hand on his mouth it’s at  _ least  _ a little muffled. “Are you improvising?!”

“We’re the summer troupe - or, well, _I_ am, and you’re played _by_ the summer troupe, we make do.”

Ali Baba frowns. “Where are we going then?”

“Room 201. You can all read, can’t you? If you can’t, then just follow the ones who can. We’re doing pair work here. No, the idiots are not allowed to be grouped together. You’re all idiots, unfortunately, so I’m going to have to deal with this.” Yuki points at each of them in turn. “Ali Baba, to Souta. Florence, to Kuro. Sky, to me. Spread out but  _ stick  _ to your pair and head  _ straight  _ for Room 201, it’s on the second floor, so you can use either of the staircases you see. Got it?”

Florence grimaces. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Do you have any better ones?” Yuki asks him dryly.

Kuro blinks up at him. “We just walk in and pretend nothing’s wrong. Surely this world has cats, mrrow.”

“No. We’re already straddling a thin fucking line with you being a literal furry and Kazunari being accused of being a furry in the furst pl-  _ FIRST PLACE, _ ” Yuki hisses between his teeth, something that makes Kuro snicker. “So no, we are  _ not  _ going with ‘walking past them normally’. Especially since that’s the director and the yakuza. They’ll probably be asking you,” he jabs a finger into Ali Baba’s chest. “A lot of questions because you’re our troupe leader, and you know  _ nothing  _ right now.”

Sky pulls out his cutlass slightly. “Here’s an idea: we disarm them! Literally.”

“NO.”

“Rurikawa,” Sakyo’s voice cuts in, sharp and imposing. “On the count of three, if you don’t show us whatever mongrel you dragged in-”

“Sakyo!”

“... Whatever  _ animal  _ you dragged in, I’m coming there myself and bringing it to the pound. One.”

Yuki holds up a hand.

“Two.”

Kuro’s entire body tenses.

“Thr-”

“ **_SCATTER!_ ** ” Yuki shouts.

Izumi shrieks and practically jumps into Sakyo’s arms as Kuro bounds right past her with Florence clinging to his neck for dear life, the cat used to moving around on all fours even when his anatomy was more akin to a human’s now than a feline’s. Florence, on his end, while he was used to riding a horse, was  _ not  _ used to riding a teenage catboy’s back. The cloth on Kuro flies away in his dash, revealing his tail and ears to the world.

Before Sakyo can even begin to  _ process  _ the image of Florence on what looked like Kazunari moving like a _cat_ __ just darting past them, he sees Ali Baba and Souta clambering up the stairs to the west, slamming past a startled Tsumugi and Tasuku while Ali Baba tried desperately to keep the cloth on his head and Souta yelled apologies at them. He turns his head to the right, and sees a familiar green haired figure with another in what looked like  _ pirate gear  _ -

“RURIKAWA!” Sakyo roars.

Yuki spares Sakyo only one glance before forcefully pulling Sky along with him, the pirate only just managing to keep the pace as Sakyo storms after them. The sheer  _ adrenaline  _ that came with being chased by an actual member of the yakuza spurs Yuki on in one final burst of speed that leads to him practically yanking Sky by the arm and  _ throwing  _ him into Room 201 with everyone else.

Immediately after, he finds himself running in and locking the door behind him, and then using his body to block the already locked door, his arms outstretched over in front of the door.

The others all look at him, wide eyed.

Yuki flinches slightly when Sakyo bangs on their door. “RURIKAWA!”

Ali Baba stumbles to his feet and joins Yuki in using his body to barricade the door. A moment later, Kuro does the same. The image would’ve been hilarious if they weren’t so terrified of Sakyo in the first place, but you know.

“Oh dear.” Yuki hears Azuma’s voice ask in concern outside. “Is everything alright, Sakyo?”

It’s Izumi’s voice who answers. “Ah, um…well. The summer troupe is up to shenanigans and Sakyo was just going to  _ politely ask them  _ what’s going on. That’s all.”

“... And he’s banging on the door why?”

“It looks like they barricaded the door.”

“No shit!” Yuki hisses as he feels Sakyo trying to shove against the door. He points at Florence, then at a closet. “Ugh, this isn’t going well. Florence, grab some of Tenma’s clothes from the closet and shove them at Ali Baba! If you find any more, throw them at everyone else!”

Florence, already stumbling to his feet, runs to where he’s aware is Tenma’s closet and pulls out the first shirt he sees and a pair of pants. These ones he throws in Ali Baba’s face before digging around for two more sets of clothes. These ones he pelts at Sky and Kuro.

“Oy. What’s shitty Sakyo doing?” Azami’s voice.  _ Shit.  _ “Why’s he trying to break down Yuki and Tenma’s door? Isn’t that extra expense if he breaks it?”

Izumi speaks up. “It’s ah- no, you know what. SAKYO! Stop trying to break down the door! Azami’s right, you don’t want extra expenses, do you?!”

“We’re going to incur extra expenses with how high my damn blood pressure is spiking right now,” Yuki hears Sakyo growl before he sees the doorknob move again, trying to be opened. “Rurikawa, Sumeragi, you had both better open this damn door right now or so help me-”

“Any  _ minute  _ now,” Yuki hisses at the others. “They’re just  _ shirts _ , for  _ god’s  _ sakes-  _ what the fuck are you doing to my  _ **_closet,_ ** _ Akiyama?! _ ”

Souta, already halfway through putting on one of Yuki’s dresses, freezes. “I didn’t want to put on a new set of pants so I’m just rolling them up to hide in the skirt!”

“I didn’t say you could put on  _ my  _ clothes, dumbass!”

Yuki’s attention is taken away from Souta when he hears every single accessory on Ali Baba’s person making noise as he shrugs them all off, sliding the billowing robes off and trading them in for Tenma’s more casual fit… except Yuki doesn’t remember Tenma owning such an ugly shirt.  _ Even when he’s not here, he continues to disappoint me somehow. _

Sky, on the other hand, had completely refused the shirt and pants combo Florence had thrown him, instead opting to lie down on Tenma’s bed and roll around on the sheets, wrapping himself up. It…  _ worked,  _ Yuki supposes, but it was the dumbest idea he’d ever seen and felt like something  _ Kuro  _ would’ve done instead, seeing as that  _ he  _ was the cat here.

Kuro, meanwhile, had the shirt on wrong. Very wrong.

Yuki was five feet and a staircase away from screaming. “How the  _ fuck  _ did you manage to put your head through  _ there?! _ ”

“These shirts are broken,” Kuro complains as Souta, now dressed in Yuki’s apple ambassador dress, tries to shove Kuro’s head out of the sleeve he’d somehow stuck his head in. “I don’t think they fit, anyway.”

“Do what I did!” Sky encourages. “There’re blankets right there, pussycat.”

“Don’t you  _ fucking  _ dare,” Yuki hisses, but it’s already too late - Kuro had already ducked away from Souta and gone for Yuki’s bed, rolling up and bundling himself in his sheets the way Sky had. Souta’s cap, somehow, remained on his head despite all this. Souta, on his end, was now just standing in the middle of the room holding a stretched out t-shirt that had once belonged to Tenma while wearing a dress.

Yuki hears someone unlock their door from the outside, but before he can even react it’s Florence who pulls him away from the door just as it swivels open.

When Sakyo finally opens the door, everyone  _ else  _ who’d come over to spectate - Azami, Azuma, and Izumi - peeks around him to see what the fuss had been about.

“...” Sakyo stares at them.

They all stare right back at him. Sky on Tenma’s bed, Kuro on Yuki’s, Ali Baba standing to the side with Souta in a dress... and Yuki and Florence in the middle of the room looking as though they’d been caught in the middle of dancing. With Yuki in a dip.

“... What the fuck.” Azami says, and quite frankly that was the current shared sentiment between everyone in the vicinity.

Azuma muffles a giggle behind a hand. “Oh my. Is this what you were so heated about, Sakyo?”

“I think he was more heated about the fact that they just ran past us for no good reason and nearly knocked him over without apologizing,” Izumi amends before looking at them. “Erm… what was that about, anyway? … And why is Kumon in a dress?”

Souta looks down at himself, and then at Izumi. He gives her a thumbs up.

Yuki, still in the dip, tries to give them all an unaffected expression. “Practicing comedy skits. We ran up here to practice our speed and agility for when we’re doing a high-speed chase etude.”

“S-sorry about that…” Florence apologizes with an awkward dip of the head. Yuki’s mildly frightened by how easily he’d slipped into a more Muku-like persona. “We just got excited.”

Sakyo sighs loudly. “... Tch. Fine.”

“Fine?” Azami repeats.

“ _ Fine _ , as in ‘I call bullshit, but I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” Sakyo shakes his head. “I’m going to remind you all right now, however - don’t do that again without warning, or all of you are going to clean the bathrooms for a week with the same speed you showed today.”

Even though they weren’t the summer troupe themselves, all five newcomers and Yuki shudder at the thought.

“They’re the youngest in the company, after all. You’ll have to give them some room to act like children every once in a while for as long as they can,” Azuma says, giving all of them a gentle smile. “Come on now, Azami, Sakyo, Director. I heard Omi’s making garlic butter baked salmon for dinner tonight.”

“But I’m younger than all of them,” Azami mentions, but Azuma pays it no mind as he leads them all back downstairs, making Sakyo close the door behind him. The  _ instant  _ the door clicks shut…

“Put. Me. Down.”

At his authoritative tone, Florence drops Yuki on the ground on command. He ungracefully crashes to the floor, prompting winces from Souta and Ali Baba.

Yuki, staring at the ceiling, decides in that very moment that today was the worst day he’d ever experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yuki's nicknames (maybe, if i remember to update this list)
> 
> florence - floral wonder boy, flower brain, petalbrain  
> kuro - furry, furrycon reject  
> souta - grape soda  
> ali baba - twinkle toes  
> sky - [none... yet]  
> \---  
> miki - motormouth  
> \---  
> im pretty sure he doesnt get to keep the actual dress for the apple ambassador. i need to double check. but either way i think he'd either buy it or recreate it himself anyway so


	17. xvii. my first good night

When Muku awakens later that night, he expects to find himself looking at the ceiling of the room he shares with Kazunari, tucked into bed with the manga of choice he’d fallen asleep reading late into the night.

Instead, he awakens to a canopied bed and the moonlight spilling out from the tall glass window to the side. When he sits up, the bed underneath is soft, incredibly so, and the comforter draped over him is silk, embroidered with what he recognizes as crawling vines with roses ranging from red to pink blooming along them. The moonlight casts a gentle light on the cool marble of the bedroom floor, illuminating the pale pink floral patterns that traced a path to the balcony area.

When Muku looks to his right, he sees a sleeping Rose, her back to him and the covers drawn up to her shoulders, a bolster being the only thing separating the two of them. She’d planned on sleeping on the chaise to allow Muku to sleep on the bed alone, but Broto had more or less insisted she actually sleep in her bed that night and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Speaking of Broto…

Muku glances to where he knows the chaise is. Surely enough, Broto is stretched out on it, his cape a makeshift blanket and a pillow under his head. He’s snoring soundly, an arm dangling off the side of the chaise and fingers grazing the handle of his sword resting on the floor.

_ So cool… he’s ready to defend if ever he gets woken up suddenly by strange noises… _

He looks at Rose again. Maybe he should’ve been more bothered about the fact that more or less he was sleeping next to a stranger, but maybe it helped that she shared a face with Yuki and that Broto shared a face with Kumon - two people that Muku valued highly and trusted wholeheartedly. He’s thankful that they’d been the ones to find him when he’d ended up in this strange new world - he’s not sure  _ what  _ would’ve happened had someone else found him.

_ If they hadn’t found me,  _ Muku thinks, glancing at his hands as he listens to Broto snore.  _ Maybe, just maybe… I would’ve had to deal with everything all on my own. Having Florence’s face more or less in a world where he’d gone missing… they probably would’ve already had me executed or something for witchcraft involving stealing the prince’s face. That’s what happened in All Bright Witch Historians issue seventeen, after all. _

Executed.

The word makes him shudder. They’d both warned him of the consequences of him being found out as  _ not  _ Florence already, and the thought of him failing to keep up the facade long enough gnaws at him, making him grab at the comforter with both hands and hold it to his chest. He’d pull it over his head and make a burrito out of himself, but that’d pull the comforter off of Rose and he didn’t want to wake her.

Could he pretend to be Florence, like this? Was he… princely enough for this?

He’d like to think he was. He’d been working so, so hard to be the prince he dreamed of being - and everyone said he was already practically a prince, right?  _ But that was when I was in a world where I didn’t have to worry about whether or not I could  _ **_pose_ ** _ as an actual prince like Citron… that’s different. There weren’t really…  _ **_stakes_ ** _ when I was back home. _

_ Here, there are. _

If he failed to pretend to be Florence, even for a moment, under the scrutinizing eyes of others… there was a high chance he could die.

He… he didn’t want to die.

_ If… if this was only a dream… even if all of this might be just a really realistic dream...  _ His grip on the comforter tightens.  _ I… I don’t want to die. There’s so much I want to do, so many things I want to explore in this world… so many books, so many places... and I… I can’t do that if I get executed. _

_ I can’t die here. If I die… Florence might not be able to come back because nobody’s going to fill in the void I leave behind and he can’t leave a void when he leaves to return here. Rose and Broto would be blamed for his disappearance too if I get found out, and… Florence…  _ Muku squeezes his eyes shut.  _ Florence won’t have a Rose or a Broto to come back to if he does get to come back _ .  _ I can’t do that to him. _

He thinks about MANKAI, and bites his lip.  _ I… I can’t leave everyone like this, so… I have to try my hardest…! _

“You think very loudly, are you aware of that, little prince?”

Muku yelps before glancing at Rose. This time, the princess is facing him, still lying on the bed. “I-I’m sorry! This useless flopping goldfish that I am just woke you up from a pleasant dream, didn’t I…”

“It wasn’t much of a dream. I don’t remember many of my dreams, to be frank with you.” Rose pushes herself up to be able to talk with Muku properly, and Muku averts his eyes and pulls the comforter over his head. “... So much like Florence. You can pull the blanket off, you know. You wouldn’t see anything.”

Muku’s entire face is a bright red under the blanket, the back of his neck burning. “I-I-It wouldn’t be right if a spineless slug like me saw you in-”

“Fine. If it’ll make you comfortable, cover your eyes for a moment.” Muku closes his eyes, and feels the blanket being pulled off of his head. After a few minutes of shifting, she says, “You can open them now.”

Muku opens his eyes, and has to choke back a giggle at the sight of Rose with the comforter draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her like a cloak, obscuring most of her from view, save for her face.

“I’m assuming that means this is fine, then,” Rose muses with a smile before her expression fades back into seriousness. “You shouldn’t worry so hard, you know. About all that.”

Muku frowns, clutching at the sleeves of his pajamas. He’d been lent a pair of Florence’s since he didn’t have any other clothes on him apart from the clothes he’d shown up in. “I-It’s just- I don’t want anyone to die-!”

“ _ No  _ one is dying. Least of all you, little prince.” Rose’s hand reaches out and taps on his forehead once, making him startle slightly. “You have me and Broto to help you here. Don’t forget that. And  _ don’t  _ discount what you yourself are capable of. You’re capable of more than you think.” Her other hand reaches out to place itself on top of one of Muku’s in a reassuring manner. “Don’t ever forget that.”

It’s quiet for a few moments. The sounds of cicada’s chirps coming from the outside and the beating of his own heart are all that Muku hears in that moment as Rose lets go of his hand and looks toward the window, expression growing somber.

“... Are you okay?” Muku asks tentatively.

Rose doesn’t answer for a bit. “... I’m simply wondering, is all. How Florence must be doing in your world.”

“Ah-! Right, I never really talked in depth about my world, huh… it’s safe there, I promise!”

“I know only bits and pieces based on what you’ve already spoken about, but everything else is a mystery, so I’ll take your word for it.”

“W-well…” Muku pushes the tips of his index fingers together nervously. “I don’t think we’re able to sleep anymore, anyway, so… would you like me to tell you about my world?”

The corners of Rose’s eyes crinkle slightly as she smiles. “It’d be a pleasure to listen to you talk about it.”

“I’d want to hear about your world too!”

Muku nearly  _ shrieks  _ as he stumbles away from where he’d been sitting into Rose’s arms, scared silly by Broto suddenly popping up behind him wide awake and speaking up. The sheer force at which he propels himself at Rose knocks them both off the bed, making Broto flinch at the  _ thump  _ that follows soon after.

“Milady Rose! Muku!” Broto clambers over the bed to stare at their fallen forms on the floor with panic on his face. “Are you both alright?! I’m sorry for startling you, Muku, I didn’t mean to!”

Rose grimaces slightly. “I… haven’t fallen out of bed like that in years. Ow.”

“ _ Shit,  _ I’m so sorry, I’m  _ really  _ sorry-” Broto leans over the edge of the bed, remorseful as he bows his head. “Punish me as you see fit for my transgression, milady. It’s what I deserve after-”

Rose, much to Muku’s confusion, turns an uncharacteristically bright red and practically shoves Muku off before hurriedly picking up a pillow and throwing it in Broto’s face, making the retainer fall off the bed in surprise. “You idiot, did Florence take your one braincell?! Don’t talk like that around him!”

“Around him?” Broto sits up, prying the pillow off his face. “What do you- _AH!_ ” It’s Broto’s turn to turn a frightening shade of red as he stammers and flusters _exactly_ like Kumon does, hands flailing. “ _Ababababababababa-_ _SORRY! SORRY! MANY SORRIES! PLEASE FORGET YOU HEARD THAT!_ ”

“Quiet! The guards might raise a fuss!” Rose hisses, but Muku sees that she’s laughing for the most part, sitting back on the bed and pulling both Muku and Broto back up on the bed with her. Her unladylike laughter is soon mixed in with Broto’s own laughter, and for a few moments it’s the main sound that fills the room, bouncing off the walls and making it seem like there were more than just the three of them in that room.

Vaguely, it reminds Muku of time with the Summer Troupe, and his heart warms.

“You’re smiling to yourself. Are we that funny?” Rose asks softly, and when Muku looks up they’re both looking at him with such kind faces that his cheeks flush. He looks down again, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “If you’re tired, you can just tell us about your world tomor-”

“N-no!” Muku exclaims, looking up again in alarm. “I- I’ll forget to tell you if we put it off for tomorrow. I’ll… I’ll tell you both now.”

Rose and Broto shift so that they’re sitting side by side on the bed across from Muku, who sits up straighter with one of the pillows propped up behind him and against the headboard of the bed. With the comforter draped over his lap, Muku traces the flowers on the comforter with a smile before looking up at the princess and the retainer.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with… where our world came to life,” Rose decides. “At your acting company, at the hands of your playwright.”

Muku perks up. “Oh- okay! So, like I said before this world was written by Tsuzuru into existence because…”

* * *

They talk well into the night.

Muku doesn’t really remember at what point he ends up dozing off, actually, but when he wakes again the next morning he’s lying down properly on the bed, the covers drawn up to his chin. When he glances to the right, he sees Rose fast asleep again, but this time she’s facing him. With her face at peace, it’s more difficult to distinguish what made her look different from Yuki.

“Good morning, Mu- er,  _ Prince Florence _ ,” he hears Broto stumble over his words, and when he looks to his left he sees the ever loyal retainer salute him. “Got to get used to that… anyway. You’re up early.”

Muku looks outside the window. The sun is shining brightly, the skies fairly clear. He hears birdsong, and hears the faint sounds of people outside the bedroom door. It seemed like a good day today. “I usually have to get up early for school, so…”

“School? So you’re one of the good studious types then.”

“Erm… I’d like to think I’m a good student, but sometimes I doubt that and think that I might just be thinking too highly of myself, who is just a wriggling caterpillar that isn’t even going to become a butterfly-”

Broto karate chops his head lightly, prompting Muku to yelp. Muku rubs at his head as Broto bows his head apologetically. “You were doing the thing again, M- er, milord. It  _ really  _ doesn’t sit well with me when you do that for some reason.”

“Oh-! Oh, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to make you feel bad-”

“I-it’s not that I feel bad, it’s that it’s so weird that you have milord’s face and you’re so self-deprecating and it makes  _ me  _ feel b- WAIT-”

“Oh,  _ no,  _ wait-”

“You are  _ both. So.  _ **_Loud_ ** _. _ ”

Broto and Muku both flinch at Rose’s irritated and groggy voice, going silent at the sound of it. After a few minutes, once they hear Rose’s breathing steadying back into the rhythm of sleep, they look at each other again.

Muku glances back at Rose briefly. “Um… is it weird to ask if-”

“If you’re asking about why she’s still asleep, no it’s not strange if you think about what time it is. Milady’s always been the first to rise between her and Florence, and she doesn’t really need anyone’s help to wake up on her own,” Broto admits. “You waking up early… she must’ve sensed it somehow, which is why she woke up slightly just now.”

“Ah…”

“Anyway, you’re going to want to get dressed really soon,” Broto explains in a softer voice as he holds out a hand to Muku. Muku takes it before yelping when Broto tugs him over to stand in front of the closet, the retainer making him stand still before going to rummage through for clothes. “Like milady mentioned yesterday, Florence follows a morning schedule, and we’re going to have to keep up appearances.”

“What-” Muku’s interrupted by Broto forcing his pajama shirt off and immediately pulling a collared shirt over him. With a shake of the head, he tries again. “What’s the schedule, anyway?”

Broto nibbles on his lower lip as he examines two vests in different shades of pink. “Well, since you woke up without me needing to wake you up, you’re thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Normally in thirty minutes Florence would be eating breakfast in the main dining hall before spending some time with Lily-”

“His horse, right?”

“Yes!” Broto nods before facing Muku. He holds out the two different vests to him. “Would you rather rose or watermelon?”

Muku squints. “... Watermelon?”

“Hm… yeah, okay, I can work with that.” Broto puts the other one back in the closet before threading Muku’s arms through the arm holes of the vest. “Where was I… oh, right. After spending time with Lily, which usually takes an hour, there’s checking in with the king and queen for a bit, and then it’s off to lessons for like… two? Three hours at worst if it’s one of the stuffy tutors.”

Muku makes an ‘ooo’ing sound as Broto goes to look for a pair of pants. “What kind of stuff does he have to learn in the mornings?”

“Oh,  _ interesting _ stuff,” Broto says, and the tinge of sarcasm that colors his words makes Muku giggle into his palms. He faces Muku again before tugging his pants off and helping Muku put on the new ones. “History is one of the main lessons, but sometimes the tutors teach the arts and sciences to milord as necessary. There’s math and geography too but those are usually on other days if you’re already taking lessons on history and science for the current day - oh, and there’s archery, and-”

Muku’s head was already spinning. “W-wait- I can’t fit all of that in one morning-”

“... Hold on, I think I confused your schedules with milady’s,” Broto frowns to himself, muttering, before running over to a different closet and pulling it open to reveal an array of boots and shoes. He picks one out before jogging over to Muku, helping him put them on. “Ah. Sorry for the misunderstanding - the archery lessons are milady’s. Milord’s lessons today  _ should  _ be geography and political science, actually. That’s fun.”

Muku slides on the second boot as he scratches at his chin. “Uh… I’m not… sure if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“Oh, no, this time it’s definitely fun, I promise. Florence’s tutor for that would be my childhood friend, Justinian! He’s a good guy, I promise.” Broto hums before appraising Muku for a moment. He clicks his tongue before turning around and pulling out a short cape to attach to Muku’s shoulders. “After those lessons it’s lunchtime, and then the rest of the schedule changes as needed.”

“What did Florence do with that time?”

“Go horseback riding with milady. They like to race with Lily and Bell and leave me to catch up to them on my favorite of the stable horses, May.” The roll of his eyes is affectionate as he carefully adds a small crown to Muku’s head. “Okay, this should do it.”

Muku looks at himself in the mirror again and sighs wistfully, touching the surface of the mirror with a hand. His fingertips are met only with its cool surface - it’s solid.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” he admits. “That I’m here, talking with you, about to pretend to be Florence… hopefully not getting caught…” Muku trails off. “... oh  _ no,  _ what  _ if  _ I get caught? Like, for real?”

Broto sighs and pats his shoulder with a hand. “Like we said. We’re here to back you up. I’m always by Florence’s side, anyway, so I can catch you where you slip up.”

“Like… like in plays!” Muku realizes with a smile. At Broto’s look, he clarifies, “Ah- well, whenever one of us made a mistake on stage or during etudes, we’d try to cover for them with an adlib. This is adlibbing, practically!”

Broto grins back at him, shoulders sagging with relief. “Oh… well, I suppose that’s accurate, yes. Don’t worry - we can  _ do  _ this, Muku.”

“We can do it…” Muku murmurs, looking at himself in the mirror again. “…”

_ You are… Muku Sakisaka,  _ he thinks to himself. _ You’re playing the role of Prince Florence again… because Rose and Broto are counting on you. Because Yuki- and the rest of the summer troupe… because MANKAI… is counting on you to come back home. You can do this. You’ve done this before… and you can do it again! _

He takes on a determined look as he pumps his fists. “We can do it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: the floral prince
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- muku sakisaka [posing as prince florence]  
> \- broto, the loyal retainer [kumon]  
> \- rose, the witty queen-to-be [yuki]  
> \- justinian, broto's childhood friend [???]
> 
> \---
> 
> putting this here as a reference for myself as well as for you guys


	18. xviii. names and faces

Ten minutes before breakfast, Rose wakes up.

Politely Muku averts his eyes yet again as he had the night before, but it didn’t even really matter. Muku doesn’t get to see anything anyway, because as if on cue at least three different handmaidens burst into their bedroom and shoo him and Broto out. Or perhaps ‘kicked them out’ was a better term - the door had been slammed right in their faces without so much as a warning and Muku had learned that the floor was very, _very_ cold.

“You’ll have to get used to that,” Broto says with a laugh when Muku picks himself up and faces him in bewilderment. “It happens whenever me and Florence aren’t out of the room before they burst in. It’s improper, after all, to be a man amongst women dressing another woman. Also because Florence and Rose aren’t married yet.”

Muku’s face goes red. “Oh.”

“Well, either way, that’s not going to last long. Milady hates it when they burst in during the mornings half the time, so we can probably count on them being kicked out in three, two, one…”

Right on cue, the bedroom door opens, and two of the handmaidens are shooed back out before the door shuts again. Muku watches as those two handmaidens murmur amongst themselves before moving on to do… whatever they were supposed to do. He assumes it’s more duties. It probably was.

“Of course she kept Soleil with her. She’s Rose’s favorite out of all of them, you’ll be able to figure out who she is when you see her later,” Broto sighs affectionately before gesturing for Muku to follow him. “Come on, the dining hall should be this way. You’ve eaten with more than three forks before, right?”

“... Uh. Maybe?” Not at all.

“Oh dear.”

* * *

Breakfast, thankfully enough, passes by without much of a problem. Muku’s thankful that he’s read up on and practiced enough proper etiquette - and was good enough at ad libbing - that nobody really notices when he accidentally picks up the salad fork instead of the dinner fork at first while eating in the large dining hall.

(Well. He thinks Broto noticed, but if he did, he doesn’t say anything.)

It’s different from eating at MANKAI. It’s a long table with many chairs just like in his stories, but he’s the only one there eating besides Broto, who’d only really snatched a slice of toast for himself and claimed he’d already eaten beforehand. Which Muku was fairly certain was a lie, but he wasn’t about to call him out on it right now.

Rose, eventually, shows up at the breakfast table without her chosen handmaiden and what seemed to be an even simpler dress than the one he’d seen yesterday. At his stare, she gives him a smile before proceeding to eat her breakfast as fast as she could while still maintaining an air of gracefulness and poise - which was _hard_. He should know - he struggled with it back at home already, and was struggling with it a little right now.

After breakfast, Broto leads him to the stables to fulfill Florence’s second task of the day - which was to care for his beloved horse, Lily. It’s in the stables that Muku runs into another familiar face - and one he hadn’t really expected in the slightest.

He bites his tongue before he can exclaim ‘Juchan?!’ out loud, but it does little to stop him from making a surprised squeak.

“Hm?” The man that shared his cousin Juza’s face looks away from where he’d been brushing the mane of one of the horses in the stables before noticing his and Broto’s presences. He bobs his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Ah. Good morning, my prince. Good morning, Broto. Here for Lily, right?”

Broto nudges Muku’s side when Muku doesn’t respond immediately.

“AH-! I-I mean, yes, yes of course.” Muku stumbles over his words briefly before composing himself, coughing into his fist. He wonders briefly if Broto was related to this Juza lookalike as he straightens out to his full height. “I’ll be taking the reins for now with my beloved Lily. Do you have anything else to do here?”

The Juza lookalike ducks his head politely yet again. “I was just finishing brushin’- brushing Bell’s hair over here. Afterwards I’ll be takin’ my leave, since I have somewhere to be today in town.”

“The town?” Muku can’t remember if Tsuzuru and Kazunari had ever brainstormed a village while making the world of _The Floral Prince._ It was probably better if he didn’t say anything about him not knowing about it though. “What’s going on?”

It’s Broto who answers him, filling in the blanks. “There’s a festival coming up in a few days down in Fiorire milord, in case you’ve forgotten. The festival… they’re hosting it in town to celebrate your wedding to milady since not everyone can fit in the castle for the more intimate celebration. And you’re running an errand for the kitchens, right, Marshall?”

“Yes,” Juza - _Marshall,_ Muku corrects in his head - nods before patting the nose of the horse he’d referred to as Bell. _Rose’s horse…_ “Lots of cakes needed. Some other pastries. Gonna- going to coordinate between home and the kitchens and how the desserts are gonna be- going to be distributed.”

Muku stifles a giggle at the starry eyed look that crosses Marshall’s face. _Looks like he likes sweets just as much as Juchan, huh…_ “I see. I should stop keeping you then, J- Marshall. Come, Broto. Let’s go care for my beautiful Lily and then head for my lessons.”

“Always right behind you, milord.”

* * *

“You were very princely back there, you know.”

“You think so?” Muku asks bashfully as he and Broto head towards the library yet again, this time for Florence’s lessons. He’d been scared _silly_ that the king and queen would’ve picked up that he wasn’t their son, but when Broto had said that they were going to check in on them for ‘a bit’, he hadn’t realized he’d actually meant ‘like, ten seconds, tops’. It was merely a peek into the throne room, a wave, and then they’d both been off for the library again. “I mean… I’ve been practicing my princely wave sometimes-”

Broto shakes his head. “No, no, not _that,_ I meant with Marshall. The way you immediately tried to take charge and responded as necessary… for a moment I thought milord had never left and that yesterday had been just a dream.”

“... You miss him,” Muku says gently. It’s hard to miss the wistfulness in his tone, after all.

“Just as you miss your friends,” Broto agrees. “Though that goes without saying.”

“Who is he to you? Florence, I mean. I don’t think I asked you yesterday.”

Broto goes quiet for a moment, stopping in his tracks. When Muku realizes this, he turns around and sees him staring up at a painting on the wall. He follows his gaze to what appeared to be a painting of the royal family, but with a younger Florence standing in the center, his parents’ hands on his shoulders. Flowers adorn the edges of the frame, vines crawling around and curling around the painting.

It takes a moment before Muku realizes Broto is speaking. He turns his head towards him as he speaks. “Florence means a lot to me. I’m not sure how to put it into words, but… I suppose it goes without saying that you don’t exactly stay by someone’s side for years as their protector without realizing you’d die for them.”

“Oh…”

“If you asked Rose, she’d say the same thing I’d say - he’s kind of dumb sometimes, but we’d most likely die for him. He’s very important to both of us - though that of course goes without saying for milady, she cares deeply for him.” His eyes close briefly. “I can say without a shred of hesitation that I’d die for milady as well, but she’d probably kill me twice over if I tried to die on her or Florence’s behalf.”

Muku looks back up at the painting and meets the younger Florence’s eyes. “... You love both of them.”

“...” Broto only smiles softly, and briefly Muku fanboys internally at the affection reflected in his eyes. _He’s so cool…! Even when he’s not going to be married to either of them, he holds his love for them close to his heart and remains loyal to them…! This kind of unconditional love... uwaaaah...!_

“You’re zoning out,” Broto laughs, tapping on Muku’s forehead and bringing him back into reality. “Anyway, we’re here. Oh, and-” he reaches around and pokes Muku’s back briefly, making him straighten out. “- there. Justinian’s a stickler about posture, so you’ll want to watch out. Don’t shrink in on yourself either. Just be proud of yourself, and hold your head up high. You’re Prince Florence right now.”

 _Hold your head up high._ Muku pushes the door open. “Got it.”

* * *

Justinian, as it turned out, was yet another familiar face - one that Muku, unfortunately, hadn’t expected at all. He probably _should’ve_ expected it after seeing Juza in the form of Marshall in the stables, but this one had caught him off guard badly.

“Aza-!” Muku immediately clamps his mouth shut, stopping himself before he can say the name yet again. _You_ **_need_ ** _to stop_ **_doing_ ** _that!_

Justinian blinks up at Muku quizzically. Unlike Azami, his hair is much, much longer - Muku’s pretty sure that it’s on par with Azuma’s in length, but it was most likely longer since it was _braided_ and draped over his shoulder. “Are you alright, prince Florence?”

“I’m- I’m just fine. Marvelous, actually,” Muku shakes his head before giving Azami - _Justinian_ \- his best smile and running a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back. If what Broto said was any indication, there was a chance Justinian could pick up on him _not_ being the prince from hair and posture alone. “Apologies for my outburst.”

Broto peers around Florence with a grin. “Hi Tintin.”

“Don’t call me that,” Justinian sighs before gesturing for Muku to take a seat at the table, which he does. Once Muku sits, he spreads out a map on the table - one that Muku does _not_ recognize in the slightest. “Okay. We’ll be starting from where we left off last time, which would be a quiz on the kingdoms and their main towns.”

Muku stares down at the map, bewildered. “I. Um.”

“... Don’t tell me you forgot everything from last time _again_ ,” Justinian deadpans. When Muku nods sheepishly, the tutor only groans before circling a place on the map somewhere to the far west. “Fine. I’ll review you one more time. We’ll start back here at the floral kingdom, like we always do. You know this kingdom best, and it’s the best starting point.”

Broto snorts as he pulls up a chair, sitting the other way on the chair next to Muku and resting his chin on the backrest of the chair. “You don’t sound surprised in the slightest that he forgot.”

“I wasn’t born _yesterday,_ Broto. I’ve been teaching the prince for a while now, and for _some_ reason these things go through one ear and out the other.” Justinian sniffs before pointing to the location on the map. “The floral kingdom, Fleuraison. Our land.”

Muku boggles. “Fleuraison?”

“... Milord, forgive my insolence, but did you hit your head yesterday on something?” Justinian shoots a look at Broto, who shakes his head violently in denial. “Broto, your task is to _protect_ the prince’s head, not let it get _hurt_.”

Broto sticks his tongue out at him childishly. “He _didn’t_ get hurt, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Milord’s been feeling off all day, is all.”

“... Oh. Would you like me to stop the lessons for today then?” Justinian frowns, looking at Muku in concern. “I can have Broto fetch the d-”

Muku shakes his head, holding up his hands. “N-no, it’s okay! I promise I’m alright. Can we continue lessons already? We can just wrap up earlier than usual if ever I feel a lot more faint than usual.” He pauses briefly, and adds as an afterthought, “If I faint, I might hurt my face, and that would damage my appearance.”

_Hopefully that’s enough ‘Florence’ing for him to let it go…?_

“... If you say so,” Justinian says, though there is doubt in his tone as he spreads out the map again. “Alright. Again, Fleuraison, the floral kingdom. Our kingdom. And the main town, whose heart is found a good distance away from the castle-”

“Fiorire,” Muku says confidently, recalling what had been mentioned earlier. He knows he did well when Broto grins next to him.

Justinian’s eyes widen briefly with surprise before he nods. “Correct. The kingdom of Fleuraison, with its main town of Fiorire. Your kingdom in the future, little prince.” Muku blinks up at the nickname in bewilderment before Justinian points to the landmass on the far right. “Our farthest neighbor, but soon to be our greatest ally, thanks to what you did for their kingdom. The-”

“- eastern kingdom!” Muku answers diligently.

The corner of Justinian’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “Typical. You remember only the common titles and not the names of the kingdoms themselves, but you’re correct. The eastern kingdom, otherwise known as Zielland. The lady Rose’s homeland, though I’m sure you already know that.”

Muku, to some degree, wished in that instant that Tsuzuru and Kazunari were there with him to witness this worldbuilding.

“Two towns, far apart from the main castle,” Justinian’s index and middle fingers form a V shape while pointing to said towns. “Klingenull and Adlerauge. Which one is the main town?”

Muku squints. “... Neither? They… both seem too far away from the castle to be considered a true ‘main’ town.”

“... Correct, to some degree. There is no true ‘main’ town, but I personally would consider it to be Klingenull.”

Broto pipes up. “I’d say it was Adlerauge.”

“You’d say it was Nevergone if it meant it’d be _against_ my choice,” Justinian snipes, prompting Broto to cackle. “Ugh. You know what, I’ll make this quicker. Pay attention, prince Florence.”

Muku jumps when Justinian slams his palm on the map, drawing circles and trade routes all over the map with a finger. “The sun kingdom, Brillumiere, the midpoint between Zielland and Fleuraison. The country south of it - Mondstrahl, the moon kingdom. To the west of Mondstrahl, its sister country Cadenstella the star or starry kingdom.”

“Sister country?”

“Sister country because the moon and the star kingdoms’ families have always been involved in some way- _shut up, Broto, I’m the tutor here-_ ” Justinian slaps a palm over Broto’s mouth before he continues. “Anyway. Tell me where this town lies in terms of jurisdiction.”

He points at a town squarely in the middle of the Cadenstella and Mondstrahl.

“Both?”

“Correct again.” Justinian gives Muku a curious look before continuing on. “Stellaluna is the midpoint town between Cadenstella and Mondstrahl and serves as neutral territory for both kingdoms should either of them decide to wage war on the other. Which I hope doesn’t happen.”

“Not that I’d wish it on anyone, but… why?” Muku asks him.

Justinian inhales sharply.

Broto groans. “Oh, _now_ you’ve done it.”

“W-what? What did I do?” Muku stammers, panic blooming in his chest. Oh no, had that been the wrong thing to say? Was his secret now going to be exposed? _No wonder Broto reacted like that, Justinian must have just found out with that that I’m not really Florence, that I’m just a weak-shelled imposter that’ll be beheaded for sport and then fed to the wolves while Broto and Rose get killed as well-_

“The economical _disaster_ that would be a war between the star and the moon kingdoms would be _disastrous,_ ” Justinian hisses. He jabs a finger at Stellaluna’s place on the map. “Cadenstella’s main exports being fish and glassware on top of Mondstrahl being the primary source of various mined ores and precious stones, if they _ever_ went into war and forced the other countries to side with one of them there would be a _significant_ depression happening in the foreseeable future!”

Muku watches with mildly rising alarm as Azami’s lookalike furiously begins to pace on the other side of the table. “Um.”

“Not to mention the delicate balance that is the relationship between the moon and star kingdoms in the first place- if these two kingdoms specifically went to war there’s _no_ doubt that Brillumiere would be dragged in as well and if _they_ were dragged in who _knows_ how long it will take before Zielland and Fleuraison get dragged in as well-”

“You unlocked his ranting mode,” Broto’s forehead hits the backrest of the chair he’s sitting on with a long-suffering groan. “I love him, I’ve known him forever, but _god_ he rants for a long time if you get him started. Better brace yourself.”

“- on top of that, there’s still the issue of the missing princess that’s been an issue for the past thirteen years that’s been stopping the sun kingdom from ever allying with either the moon or star kingdoms-”

“I think I’m getting information overload…” Muku moans, slumping slightly in his chair.

“- and then there’s the assassination plot that never ever got solved because Zielland seems so keen on keeping the issue under wraps when it’s clear that we as the new allying kingdom could help-”

“Tintin,” Broto tries calling out, but Justinian doesn’t seem to hear, the boy already neck deep in his tirade. With a sigh, he looks at Muku. “You’d best just… try and absorb what you can. I feel like he’s going to quiz you on this at some point later. Also? Our main export is agricultural items. Don’t forget that. And flowers.”

In response, Muku lets his forehead hit the table.

Justinian really doesn’t notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: the floral prince
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- muku sakisaka [posing as prince florence]  
> \- broto, the loyal retainer [kumon]  
> \- rose, the witty queen-to-be [yuki]  
> \- justinian, broto's childhood friend [azami]  
> \- marshall, a stablehand [juza]  
> \- soleil, the favorite handmaiden [???]
> 
> \---
> 
> can you believe i spent like half a day trying to figure out the map just for this? im such a fucking clown!! i made the map in inkarnate if you guys are interested in making your own maps
> 
> anyway yell at me @ryukogo_art on twitter if you want


	19. xix. brand new world

There is a distinct sort of feeling one gets when they witness the sunset in a new place for the first time. To see the sun set by default is already an experience in and itself, but to be experiencing it for the first time in an environment completely different from one’s normal is another thing entirely. The change in setting leads to a shift in perspective, framing the experience into something entirely new, giving one the opportunity to appreciate it all over again.

Such is the experience of one Kazunari Miyoshi at the current moment, walking with the  _ Sardine Search _ cats on the way back to the cat mansion Mikke and Tama lived in.

There’s something about the sunset in this world that makes Kazunari feel a lot less worried about his situation. Maybe it’s the fact that out of the worlds they’d chosen to portray on stage,  _ Sardine Search _ ’s closest thing to ‘drama’ was the scene near the end with Shiro yelling at Kuro while under the spell of catnip. It just overall felt like he could let his guard down in the world of cats.

_ Apart from the whole ‘catnip’ thing, it doesn’t really feel like anything bad could possibly happen in this world.  _ Kazunari breathes in the scent of evening dew on the air, and lets out a long sigh of relaxed relief, letting the breeze play at his hair.  _ It’s like a dream… _

“Don’t fall asleep, nya~!”

Kazunari startles slightly as Tama bounds past him, giggling. The cat throws himself into the grass in front of them and rolls around happily as Mikke grumbles before leaping right on top of Tama as well, the younger brother shrieking as his elder brother grabs him by the scruff and then proceeds to walk with him in tow.

… It’s an odd sight, seeing as that they were  _ him  _ sized right now but Kazunari wasn’t about to call them out on catlike behavior. He was the stranger in this world, after all.

_ Hehe. The Stranger. Hey, I should totes get Omimi to make some cat-themed desserts when I get back home! _

…

The thought of home is a little sobering. He’d ended up here around the afternoon - and now the sun was setting. _ It’s getting late _ , Kazunari realizes faintly as he sees the sun disappear below the horizon in the distance.  _ I’d check what time it is exactly, but… my phone’s out of battery and totally fried. _

They’d been walking for what felt like at least two hours now - well,  _ Kazunari  _ had been walking. He’s not sure if what the others had been doing could be considered as walking. They’d initially set out with him just bounding forward on all fours as cats did, but they’d moved too fast and too far for him to really catch up, so they’d resorted to padding alongside him instead, slowing their pace to what Kazunari is pretty sure is their equivalent of a crawl. Or a lazy strut.

After Kazunari had told the four cats as much as he could about how he’d probably arrived in their world and somehow most likely switched places with Kuro, Mikke had realized that they probably needed to get a head start on the way back home with how it was already getting later and later. He personally hadn’t protested - he was curious about this world that Tsuzuru had written for his troupe, and he wouldn’t lie: walking, talking cats?

Quite frankly, he was having a field day. But not because he was a furry. Whoever said he was a furry was a liar and a half.

_ (In his head he can still hear Banri’s stifled cackling from when Itaru had shown Kazunari a video of Kazunari himself eating leaves from Pontaro, the tree in the dorm courtyard, while Sakuya and Taichi had tried to stop him. _

_ He can still taste the leaves, somewhat. That probably wasn’t a good thing.) _

“Kazunyari?” Shiro’s voice pipes up, interrupting his thoughts.

Kazunari glances to his left. Shiro, bless his soul, was trying to match Kazunari step for step with his own. It’s uncanny for him to see him standing on his hind legs so naturally, but by doing so Kazunari felt as though he was walking alongside a slightly shorter Yuki instead - one that was wearing his  _ Sardine Search  _ costume. Except if Yuki happened to be furry and a talking cat.

Should he be concerned that he was getting too easily accustomed to this situation? Probably.

“Yeah?” Kazunari grins at the cat. “What’s up, Shiropi?”

Shiro’s ears twitch at him as they walk slowly, his tail swishing back and forth. His paws are clasped behind his back as he speaks. “Kazunyari, can I ask mew a question or two? Or are mew busy?”

“What? Of course you can!” The corners of his mouth turn up in a grin. “I mean, all we’re doing is walking back home, right? I’m not really busy or anything.”

Shiro’s right ear twitches. “I just wanted to make sure. Sometimes Nora’s busy with thinking even when we’re walking, and I don’t wanna be a bofur beclaws Nora thinks grown up cat thoughts and I heard those were really difficult thoughts.”

“Huh.” Kazunari hums to himself. “That’s pretty thoughtful of you, Shiropi.”

Shiro grins. “I’m a big cat meow, of course I’m thoughtful! … So, um…” Shiro looks down at the grass as they walk, swinging his front paws forward and backward like a pendulum as they go. “If mew’re a mewman, and you kinda look like Kuro but if Kuro were a mewman, does that mean Kuro’s in your world looking like a cat you?”

“...” Kazunari’s eyes narrow at the thought. “Huh… huh! Well, that’s definitely a thought. Well, maybe he’s still a cat like you are right now, Shiro. Like, he might still look like the Kuro you know, I mean. But he might also just look like  _ me  _ right now, but with-” he lifts his hands up to his head and makes a gesture indicating cat ears. “- y’know?”

The young cat looks up at him before giggling. “Mewman Kuro but with cat ears? That’s silly.”

“Maybe even a tail too!” Now  _ there  _ was a thought. “I had to wear a tail for our performance of the Great Sardine Search, after all, so he probs has one even if he looks like me. Wonder how he’s gonna hide the ears and tail, hmmmm.”

With a flick of his right ear, Shiro suggests, “Maybe, he’s gotta wear a hat like Nora does!”

“A hat like mine?” Nora’s voice asks from behind them. Before Kazunari can glance at him, Nora, on all fours, slinks past Kazunari to pad in front of both of them, an ear turned in their direction as he gets back up on his hind legs to walk with them. “This isn’t a hat, kit. A hat would cover my ears and head fur.”

“It’s nyot?”

“Not at all. It’s headgear, but not a hat.”

“Stop lagging behind, mew two!” Tama’s voice calls out near the front. When Kazunari looks, he sees that Mikke had already let go of him, allowing Tama to prance around willy-nilly while still maintaining a fair distance from them. The second youngest of the group, from what Kazunari could see, was just as fast as Misumi himself - which made sense, given that he  _ was  _ Misumi’s character. The only thing that seemed to really be stopping him was the fact that Kazunari couldn’t match his speed. “We gotta go home already!”

Shiro sticks his tongue out at Tama childishly. “We are having an important grown up talk Tama! We shall walk as slow as we purrlease!”

“Be considerate, Shiro,” Nora chastises from Kazunari’s left. “You and Kur-  _ Kazunari _ -” he corrects. “- may not be governed by anyone else except yourselves, but Mikke and Tama have to report to the Chief.”

Kazunari lights up. “Chief- he’s the head cat over at Meow Meow Manor right? I’m gonna have to expect another familiar face, huh?”  _ Seeing Kumopi a little older… I wonder how that’d look? Would he look like Hyodle? _

“Well, seeing as that we seem to be the oldest, it makes sense that we at least greet the master of the house, so to say,” Nora muses thoughtfully. “After all, as the oldest, we are responsible for these kits and for making sure they come home safely.”

Mikke’s ear flicks towards them. “‘M’not a kit.”

“You are a kit to me, Mikke,” Nora chuckles. “And, if I’m not mistaken, the human who plays you is younger than Kazunari here. Am I right?”

“Tenten’s younger by a few years… so uh…” Kazunari counts off his fingers with a frown before saying, “I’m twenty one, he’s… eighteen?”

“What’s that in cat years?” Shiro asks.

Kazunari furrows his brow. “Uh. I’m gonna have to get back to you on that one, Shiropi.”

“Aww…”

“Either way… we should hurry along. It’s getting darker by the minute, and I don’t think Kazunari here has the gift of night eyes. I hope you’re prepared to run, Kazunari.” Nora drops back down on all fours and speeds up his pace, prompting Shiro to do the same and follow after him. Kazunari, unable to really do the same, is forced to begin jogging after them as fast as he can as the wind cuts through the grassy fields they walk through.

“Wait for me, Rara-nii~!”

* * *

_ It’s times like these,  _ Kazunari thinks.  _ That I really wish I was a speed demon like Mukkun or Sumi are. _

Jogging in the early mornings with the summer troupe was one thing - with the director on her bike at the front as their cheerleader, over time each and every one of the summer troupe members had been forced to become just a little more athletic in order to maintain their spots as actors. You had to, after all, have a good reserve of stamina if you played comedy like they did. Sure, they weren’t the autumn troupe who did action scenes more often than not, but they had to use their assets, no?

Assets being Misumi’s frightening athleticism, for one.

Then again, he was a biped trying to match the running speed of a quadruped. That was like trying to match a Misumi at full speed with like… Itaru.

(Back home at the dorms, in the middle of practice Itaru sneezes. Loudly.)

He’s mostly thankful for the fact that a good portion of the road they’d traveled down was grassland that only reached up to his waist, mostly because that meant he could see things even from a certain distance. And in the distance, coincidentally, seemed to be a large mansion with lit up windows and lanterns that could have only been Meow Meow Manor. He’d sketched out Meow Meow Manor before as part of worldbuilding with Tsuzuru, though most of the little details were more or less given to Tetsuro in the end since Tsuzuru didn’t spend much time describing the actual mansion in the script. 

It wasn’t a gated estate, but from where he was standing Kazunari could see rounded trees circling the perimeter in a manner that established the grounds of said mansion. There was a stone path that led to the front entrance, lined with what looked like…  _ valerian? _

**_Cats like valerian,_ ** he hears Misumi’s voice say cheerfully in his head.  **_I remember, they said it makes them feel all calm and stuff! Like Azuma’s scented candles!_ **

It made sense, he thinks, that there’d be calming plants all over.

“We’re almost there!” Tama cheers, skidding to a stop - only for Kazunari to misjudge his own stop and trip over him, landing face first in the grass. “... Oops.”

Shiro bounds over to Kazunari, poking at him with a paw. “Kazunyari? Kazunyari, are mew okay?”

Kazunari pushes himself up and spits out a few blades of grass. “Never better, Shiropi.”

“You sound displeased,” Nora comments in amusement, padding up next to him as Kazunari sits up and spits out a few more blades of grass. “But Tama’s right, we’re almost here. We can stop running as fast, since the road here is fairly straightforward.”

Mikke’s ear twitches toward the mansion. “And I think somepawdy’s coming. I hear them.”

“Huh?” Kazunari looks up, and indeed sees a cat approaching them from the stone path. “How’d you hear them from this far, anywa- wait, you’re cats. Nevermind.”

Tama sniffs. And then, much to Kazunari’s confusion, his ears press against his head nervously. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh?” Kazunari echoes.

Tama unsheathes his claws and scratches at the dirt nervously. “It’s Mordecai.”

“... Mordecai?” Now there was a name that Kazunari had absolutely  _ never  _ heard before. He knew of Mikke, Tama, Kuro, Nora, and Shiro, as well as the chief, sort of - but Mordecai?  _ I wonder if it’s anyone I know, or just a rando cat- _

“WHERE HAVE YOU TWO BEEN?!”

Kazunari blinks rapidly.

Drawing closer to them is a Siamese cat of rather tall stature - for their current size, that is - in attire slightly different from the more casual looks of the cats Kazunari knew. It’s still just as loose in that it allowed for just as much free movement, but what made him stand out was that he wore a scarf that trailed in the breeze dramatically - a scarf in a familiar shade of red violet.

Kazunari closes his eyes briefly and imagines the cat to have reddish eyes instead of blue, and nods to himself.  _ Aririn. _

“Do you have  _ any  _ idea how worried everyone was?!” the Siamese rants, skidding to a stop in front of them before drawing himself up to full height. The way he held himself was similar to Sagishima, but his attire was nowhere  _ near  _ as elegant. “Honestly, you two… oh, hello, Nora. Hello, Shiro. Hello, human.”

Pause.

The cat that Tama had called ‘Mordecai’ does a double take. “A  _ human? _ ”

“You’ve seen humans before, Mordie?” Nora asks in amusement.

Mordecai rubs at his eyes with a paw in disbelief. “My  _ word,  _ Nora. Is that- is that Kuro, perchance?”

“Close, but not quite,” Nora chuckles. “This is Kazunari. Kazunari, this is Mordecai, one of the senior cats at Meow Meow Manor. Otherwise known as Mikke and Tama’s catsitter.”

“He does  _ not  _ need to catsit us!”

“I’m a big cat! I don’t need a catsitter!”

Mikke and Tama’s protests are drowned out by Mordecai hissing at both of them in warning, prompting both of them to shrink back. The sight of a cat that vaguely resembled Homare doing such a thing makes a giggle erupt at the back of Kazunari’s throat, and when the cats all turn to him he’s laughing, wiping a tear away from his eye.

“Is he laughing at me? Please tell me the human isn’t laughing at me,” Mordecai frets. “Oh, this is embarrassing. Esther’s going to laugh at me.”

“Sorry, sorry- ahahaha,” with a wheeze, Kazunari tries to compose himself. “You just totally reminded me of someone else I knew at home, so when I saw you do that, it was  _ really  _ unexpected, y’know?”

Mordecai relaxes by a hair, patting at his head fur. The fact that he had a sort of fringe too makes another giggle form in Kazunari’s chest, but this one he swallows back. “Oh- well, that’s… good, I think? I hope I haven’t tainted the image of whoever that is.”

“Nooo, don’t worry, Caicai, you’re totes doing just fine~!”

“C… caicai?”

Nora shakes his head. “Kazunari likes to give people nicknames, from what I’ve learned. You’ll get used to it. Either way, you came here to fetch us, didn’t you? Sorry we took so long to bring them back home.”

“It’s alright, Nora. Heaven knows  _ these  _ kits are a pawful on occasion,” Mordecai shoots Mikke and Tama a look before sighing in exasperated fondness, a paw to his cheek. “Well… at any rate. Yes, I was here to escort you all back home, but I wasn’t expecting a human.”

Shiro cocks his head to the side. “Will Kazunyari be able to fit inside the mansion?”

“Well, I don’t see why not - he’s shorter than me,” Mordecai examines Kazunari from top to bottom before nodding. “It’s not like he’s the proper human size, after all. Humans are meant to be taller. Perhaps at least three Meow Meow Manors, if not four.”

Shiro’s eyes grow wide. “Mewmans are huge?!” He turns to Kazunari, scandalized. “Kazunyari, mew never said you were supawsed to be huge!”

Nora coughs into his paw. “Mordecai. We’re getting off track.”

“Right- right! Kazunyari, was it?” Mordecai turns to Kazunari.

Kazunari makes a peace sign. “Kazunari, actually, but if that’s a mouthful you can just call me Kazu!”

“Kazu…” Mordecai tests the name on his tongue before shrugging. A cat shrugging was  _ never  _ going to stop being a novel sight to Kazunari, he thinks. “Kazunari will do. I’m not sure what the Chief will make of this, but I can’t very well leave a human out here undefended. I’ll let you into the mansion, and from there we can talk with Chief. Is that alright?”

Shiro tugs on Mordecai’s scarf thoughtfully. “Can we sleep ofur tonight?”

“Can Shiro sleep over?!” Tama begs, tugging on the other end of the scarf. “Please please purrlease PURRLEAAAASE?”

Both Kazunari and Nora bite their tongues to stifle their laughter as Mordecai bops both kittens on the head with his paws. “Paws off my scarf, please, and yes, Shiro, you may sleep over tonight. It’s too late and no matter  _ what  _ the Chief says, I’m not letting a kit stay out in the cold. Nora, are you staying?”

“Mrrr… Kazunari will need some form of sanity that he knows,” Nora laughs good-naturedly. “I’ll stay, but only for tonight.”

Mordecai beams. “Excellent. Then we shall be off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: the great sardine search
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- kazunari miyoshi [not kuro]  
> \- shiro, the kitten with a little more growing up to do [yuki]  
> \- nora, the wandering cat [muku]  
> \- mikke, the elder brother [tenma]  
> \- tama, the younger brother [misumi]  
> \- chief, the chief of meow meow manor [kumon]  
> \- mordecai, a senior cat at the mansion [homare]
> 
> \---
> 
> took me ages to get into the sardine search mindset
> 
> anyway as usual yell at me @ryukogo_art on twitter if you want


	20. xx. meow meow manor

They’re all staring at him.

It’s not the kind of staring that Kazunari knows and is fairly used to - the kind of staring that people do whenever he’s up on stage with the rest of Summer Troupe, or the kind of staring people do whenever he’s at a mixer with other people and he’s drawn some attention to himself on purpose. That kind of staring he could deal with with relative ease.

No, this is the kind of staring he thinks Tenma gets on the daily whenever he doesn’t go incognito, the kind that Yuki gets for dressing as he usually does in public. The kind that gets under your skin and burrows in deep and uncovers all the insecurities you have about yourself the longer it lasts on you. The kind where you  _ know  _ for a fact not all of them are kind stares, that some of them are the kind of stares that could only mean they were going to talk about you, and half the time not in a good way.

It was probably being made worse right now by the fact that cats had that  _ stare -  _ a miles-long stare that shanked you right in the gut and made you feel like you were literally  _ nothing _ . 

And the fact that he was  _ literally  _ surrounded by cats his size.

No matter where he glanced, there was a cat or two staring at him. Some were perched on the banister of the stairs, others were lying about on their stomachs. Others were playing with balls of yarn while glancing at him every now and then, and a good few were visibly talking while shooting glances at him, as though gossiping. All of them were dressed in relatively loose, comfortable clothing, but like Mordecai they were more dressy casual than true formal  _ or  _ true casual.

Despite himself, Kazunari feels sweat bead at the back of his neck. 

_ Did Tsuzuroon ever mention exactly how many cats lived in Meow Meow Manor…? _

“They can tell you’re nervous, you know,” Nora comments pleasantly to his left. Like him, he was walking upright on his hind legs. The younger three cats in their little party, however, were on all fours and following behind them, chattering among themselves excitedly. “I can tell too. You’re good at hiding your discomfort, but I’ve met enough people like you on this continent that I can tell.”

His words aren’t very reassuring, but Kazunari only laughs it off awkwardly. “Me? I’m not nervous, Rara-nii, ahaha~!”

Nora gives him an unimpressed look. Impressive, given that where his ‘eyebrows’ would’ve been on his feline face are hidden a little below his headgear and goggles. He doesn’t say anything to call him out, however, as they hear Homare’s-  _ Mordecai’s _ \- voice trill out loudly. “Essie! What  _ are  _ you doing?!”

Kazunari tilts to the side and looks around Mordecai just in time to see a peculiar sight: what looked to be a grayish white Cornish Rex carrying a rather unreasonable amount of books in her front paws, balancing at least five more on her head. Her tail, acting as another limb, also appeared to be holding one more book. There didn’t seem to be anyone else helping her carry the whole thing, but it didn’t seem like she was having any trouble.

“Mordecai?” the cat says softly, and the absolute speed at which Kazunari gets bodied by her voice alone nearly makes him double over.  _ I was  _ **_not_ ** _ expecting Hisohiso…!  _ “You’re back already… that’s good. I was wondering if you got lost somehow...”

Esther, like the Hisoka he knows, had only one visible eye, the other hidden behind a particularly long tuft of fur. Her voice is almost exactly like Hisoka’s as well - just as sleepy, just as low, but there is a distinctly feminine lilt to it. Instead of a scarf, she wore a deep blue wool shawl with white patterns that seemed to vaguely resemble either ice cubes, or…  _ marshmallows…? _ The corners of her eyes are downturned, giving her a permanently gloomy expression as well.

All in all, Hisoka made for a very pretty cat, Kazunari had to admit.

Mordecai sighs before moving closer to her, reaching up to halve her load by taking a few books and placing them on his other paw. “I keep telling you not to do any heavy lifting when I’m not around to help. I don’t want you getting hurt by accident via misstepping on any of the ladders or step stools.”

“I’m not _ that  _ prone to miscalculation,” Esther grumbles, but Kazunari can detect a hint of fondness as she rubs her cheek against Mordecai’s and purrs, “Good to see you brought Mikke and Tama back already. That means that’s everyone accounted fo-”

Esther’s lonely eye trails behind Mordecai and spots Shiro, and then Nora… and then Kazunari. At the sight of him, she drops the books in her paws, her eye going wide. Or eyes - he wouldn’t know for certain unless-

Esther raises a paw and lifts up the fur covering her other eye, revealing pale blue like the sky. Kazunari is delighted.  _ So in this world, Hisohiso’s a heterochromic cat! So cool…! _

_ But, it’s strange _ , he thinks,  _ that the other cats didn’t particularly have odd head fur like Shiro and the others did. _ They just looked like normal cats that just happened to be his size.

_ In fact…  _ he muses.  _ The only cats that have off-color or oddly-shaped head fur are the ones resembling people I know from Mankai. Weird. _

“Mordecai-” Esther’s paw points at Kazunari. It’s almost comical if he imagines it to actually be Hisoka instead of her there. “Mordecai, there’s-”

Mordecai shushes her gently with his free paw. “My darling Essie, I am well aware. We can talk later with the Chief regarding him, but for now, Shiro and Nora are…”

Kazunari hears a crash behind him, followed immediately by the sound of Mikke yelling and Tama and Shiro giggling. When he turns around, he sees Mikke hanging upside down by a rope wrapped around one of his hind legs, the cat wriggling around in panic while his brother and Shiro roll around laughing on the ground.

He’s sort of inclined to join them.

“Oh, good grief,” Mordecai shakes his head before tapping Kazunari’s shoulder. “Would you mind?”

Kazunari blinks. “Mind what?”

“You see that over there?” Kazunari follows Mordecai’s free paw with his eyes to a taut rope - one that leads directly to Mikke’s ankle. “Just untie the rope, and Mikke will be let down. Honestly, these kits keep leaving traps like these all over the mansion and the grounds.”

Nora laughs. “And exactly whose brilliant idea was that?”

“Not  _ mine _ , that’s for sure,” Mordecai huffs as Kazunari goes to untie the rope. After fiddling with the knots a bit, the rope loosens, and Mikke goes crashing face first into the floor with a yowl. Shiro cackles in delight at his misfortune. “Ah, thank you, Kazunari.”

“So you were saying?” Esther prompts.

Mordecai coughs into a paw. “Er-hem! Right. Well, Shiro and Nora and Kazunari here would like to stay the night, since it  _ is  _ rather dark out now and I’d rather they were safe in the warmth of the mansion than out in the cold.”

“Even though Nora is used to roughing it out?” Esther questions dryly.

Nora gives her a grin. “I’m not turning down a warm bed.”

“Kazunari… that must be this human, right?” Esther turns to face Kazunari before nodding primly. “I’m Esther, in case you haven’t picked up on that yet, human… Kazunari. You seem… awfully familiar, actually, for some odd reason. Purrhaps it’s your hair?” She walks over to Kazunari before examining his shirt thoughtfully. “Or your clothes…”

Kazunari laughs awkwardly, trying to gently pry her off. “If you’ve met Kuro, that’s probably why, ahahaha~”

“Kuro? Oh... “ Esther squints at him. “You do look a lot like him, but if he were human… where is he, anyway?”

“Long story,” Nora cuts in. “We can tell everyone tomorrow, but for now, can we see the Chief? He needs to know we’re here before we can curl up anywhere.”

“Oh, of course. Follow me - Mor, can you-?”

“I’ll handle the books, dear.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

By the time they manage to pop in and let the Chief know they’re in the mansion, it’s nearing midnight. He doesn’t look at them, too busy with something on his desk that Kazunari can’t really see from where he’s standing, but when his tail flicks to the right, Esther takes that as a signal to usher them to Mikke and Tama’s room where they would sleep over for the night.

At least, that was the plan.

Except Kazunari couldn’t sleep.

It’s not that the bed wasn’t comfy - it was  _ very  _ comfy, but he was technically sharing his with Nora, and Nora’s tail flicked around in his sleep. It wasn’t the cold, either - he was okay with it, Esther had provided a blanket for him that ‘some of the older cats had made themselves’. It wasn’t even the fact that he was in a room with Mikke, Tama, Nora, and Shiro - they made it feel like he was having a sleepover with the summer troupe.

He’s not sure why he’s unable to sleep, but he does know that he wants to stretch his legs - so he stands up, careful not to rouse Nora, and leaves the room to go explore.

The bedroom hallway lights are dim, leaving just enough light for Kazunari to wander around freely without bumping into anything unknowingly. The faint light guides him towards the brighter ground floor of the mansion, where more of the lights were on as though cats were still awake and alive. When he descends the stairs, however, it’s quiet, devoid of cats.

_ Was everyone asleep…? _

Well. That was a bit of a disappointment. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle. With a shrug, he wanders the mansion’s ground floor, looking around at the artifacts and paintings on display. He pauses in front of one in particular - a cat holding a honeysuckle bud in its paws - and observes it idly, leaning in close to see if he could figure out what it was made from.

_ Hm…  _ his eyes narrow.  _ Oil on canvas... _

“Kazunari, right? I apologize for not being able to greet you properly earlier.”

Kazunari looks away from the painting he’d been staring at. The chief of the cat mansion -  _ was Chief really his name? _ \- pads slowly up to him on all fours before straightening out, giving him an intense look. “Ah- good eves~ it’s totally okay, I saw you were super busy earlier. I’m Kazunari, but if Shiropi calls me Kazunyari you can do that too!”

“Kazunari will be fine,” the chief decides. He glances at the painting Kazunari had been looking at before turning to face it in full as well, holding his front paws behind his back. “I see mew’re looking at the paintings.”

“Ah- yeah,” he scratches at his cheek with a laugh. “I was just seeing what they were painted with, that’s all. Who painted these?”

Chief’s ear flicks in his direction. “Most of these paintings out on display are gifts from travelers. This one you’re looking at right now,  _ ‘Melancholy of the Honeysuckle’,  _ is a gift from Nora.”

“Really?”

“Mm, yes,” Chief’s tail swishes thoughtfully. “A lot of the older things here on display are from him, since my father’s father and his father’s father happened to be littermates. Call it a sense of familial obligation, if you will.”

“You’re cousins?”

“Distantly.”

Kazunari faces the painting again. Looking closer, the cat holding the flower in the painting is frighteningly familiar. “It looks really well made. Did Nora tell you where he got it?”

“Apparently, somewhere up in the Northlands. Do you know where that is?”

“... Up north?”

Chief flicks his ear at him again. Kazunari sees a small smile creep up his face. “Cheeky kit. I’m older than you, even if I may be shorter than you.”

“Ahaha, sorry, sorry. It’s just- the person who plays you in my world, Kumopi- I mean, Kumon? He’s younger than me. It’s a li’l hard to forget you’re not actually him.”

“Even when I’m visibly feline?”

“... You got me there.”

Chief laughs, and it’s there that Kazunari becomes able to truly distinguish him from Kumon himself. Where Kumon’s laugh is childish and warm, genuinely filled with mirth, Chief’s laugh was deeper, reserved, as if something heavy seemed to be weighing on his mind. “You’re very different from Kuro. I’m surprised you were able to play as him in…  _ Sardine Search,  _ was it?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Nora told me,” the chief says plainly, and Kazunari remembers Nora briefly staying behind to talk with the chief before coming back to join them.

Kazunari laughs. “Well, I mean, Yukki’s not as childish and playful as Shiro, but he managed! That’s why we’re actors, after all,” Kazunari rocks back and forth on his heels a few times. “We play roles.”

“Indeed.”

It’s silent for a few moments.

“... Kazunari?”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t sleep, can you?”

Kazunari makes a ‘pssh’ sound, waving it off. “Me? Nah. I just got curious about this place and decided to walk around. You don’t mind right?”

“Not as long as I’m accompanying you,” Chief shrugs. It’s odd seeing a cat shrug, but he doesn’t comment. “The younger cats, after all, all tend to be asleep around this hour, as I’m sure you’ve noticed with Tama and Mikke. This makes it easier to walk around unhindered.”

“Are you like my bodyguard? ‘Cause that’s cool.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Kazunari. You’re fairly new here to this world, after all,” the chief hums in thought. “That, and this world hasn’t seen humans in millennia. You’ll have to forgive mine and the other elder cats’ curiosity regarding you.”

Kazunari blinks in surprise, pointing at himself. “Okay, rewind. Disregarding the fact that y’all think I’m interesting, what do you mean you guys haven’t seen humans in millennia? I thought this was a world of cats?”

“Gatonisi is indeed a world of cats,” the chief confirms. “But it wasn’t always that way.”

_ Oooooo. Worldbuilding. Tsuzuroon would absolutely go  _ **_apeshit_ ** _ if he learned about this.  _ “Care to spill the deets?”

“Perhaps, but not here.” The chief’s tail flicks once. “If you’re really not keen on going to sleep for now, we can head on over to the library together to discuss it. Esther and Mordecai do shifts and sleep in a room next door to it, so if we ever needed assistance, we can just call for them.”

“Sounds good to me!”

The chief smiles, and for a brief moment, Kazunari thinks he sees something flash in his golden eyes - an unrecognizable emotion. But it’s gone before he can even blink.

_ Did I imagine that?  _ he wonders as he goes to follow the chief of the mansion down the hall.  _ Or did he seem kind of… worried? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: the great sardine search
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- kazunari miyoshi [not kuro]  
> \- shiro, the kitten with a little more growing up to do [yuki]  
> \- nora, the wandering cat [muku]  
> \- mikke, the elder brother [tenma]  
> \- tama, the younger brother [misumi]  
> \- chief, the chief of meow meow manor [kumon]  
> \- mordecai, a senior cat at the mansion [homare]  
> \- esther, a senior cat at the mansion. librarian. [hisoka]
> 
> \---
> 
> took me ages to get into the sardine search mindset again because my brain keeps jumping around!! i am mukuyuki brainrot i go brrr + i have school
> 
> anyway as usual yell at me @ryukogo_art on twitter and @ryukogo on tumblr if you want


	21. xxi. anybody got a map?

Misumi had never seen so many maps in one place before.

Well, rather, he’d never known that Sky’s pirate crew in general had  _ owned  _ so many maps in the first place. It was all well and good that they had so many, but he’d been under the impression that they weren’t exactly the most wealthy pirate crew out there on the seven seas. Having so many maps wasn’t exactly the most beneficial in the long run, especially if they weren’t waterproofed like Chikage’s various ID cards.

Cards that Misumi was sure were faker than fake, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Sakuya liked Chikage a whole lot, and he didn’t want Sakuya to be sad.

He remembers the photoshoot for the poster for their play involving Muku -  _ Henry,  _ his mind supplies helpfully - holding onto a map behind him, and all the treasure maps that had been mentioned over the course of the play… but that was about as far as his stock knowledge went on the matter. It was never really elaborated upon by Tsuzuru apart from what was in the script and what they’d made up that one time as a troupe.

With Henry as the navigator, most of the backstory for him was Muku’s doing - and Misumi couldn’t just call Muku up on the phone or anything and ask  _ ‘Hey Muku, did Henry hoard maps or something? That’d be nice to know, thanks in advance, I’ll bring home a triangle when I get back!’  _ at the moment.

Misumi pauses.  _ … Ah, no, wait-  _ he couldn’t even contact Muku in the first place, could he? It was Not-Muku back home.  _ Aww… _

There went  _ those  _ plans. He supposes he’d deal with them later.

With Henry directing Jonny at the helm of the ship and Paul manning the rigging, Francoise had taken it upon herself to be in charge of Misumi for a bit while she’d gone down to one of the rooms below deck. Henry had assigned her navigator for the current trip to Peridot Cove, so she’d needed to find the maps that lead  _ to  _ Peridot Cove in the first place based on their current location.

And to do  _ that,  _ she needed to haul ass below deck.

“Remember our spot, Misumi. ‘Fore y’came over here, we’d just passed Morgana’s Isle, so we’ll be needin’ maps from there to Peridot Cove.”

“Aye aye, Francoise ma’am!”

Even though they’d specified that the ship had been pretty rundown, Misumi had to admit it still looked rather impressive in its own right. It was not a large ship, but it was not as small as the play had repeatedly emphasized. It was big enough that when Francoise had gestured for him to follow her down, he’d counted at least three different rooms below deck besides the captain’s room. Sure, everything looked like it could fall apart if it took a wrong hit, but if it was somehow still holding up they were  _ probably  _ doing something right.

Probably.

The room Francoise takes him to is a little cramped, though not because of the room’s actual size - rather, it was crammed with weapons and maps, as well as chests of things Misumi would have liked to check out but couldn’t due to the locks on them. There were so many  _ triangles  _ in this room alone, but Francoise seemed to have already picked up on that, because when he goes to reach out for one she grabs him by the wrist gently but firmly and pushes his hand down.

“Stay ‘ere,” she instructs him, putting both hands on his shoulders and sitting him down on one of the bigger chests before turning around to examine the shelves on the wall across from them. “Now, lessee…”

“Are these all treasure maps?” Misumi asks. He rocks his legs back and forth, his heels hitting the chest he’s sitting on and making a nice hollow sound like a drum each time. He likes the sound.  _ Thump. Thump. Thump. _

Reminds him of his heartbeat. Or Kazu’s while watching the fireworks with him.

Francoise, not looking back at him, trails her fingers across the many maps rolled up and stacked on the shelves. “Nay, laddie. A good chunk o’ these be treasure maps, yes, but most o’ ‘em be actual maps that we use when trav’lin’. It’s usually Henry who be managin’ these, however.”

“Because he’s Sky’s navigator, right?”

“Mm. Prob’ly one o’ th’ only brains on this here ship ‘fore me an’ Paul came ‘round,” The woman hums before pulling out one of the maps, unfurling it to study it briefly. “... Aha. This should be one o’ two, it ends at th’ edge o’ Breakdown Point. Damn th’ man for not lab’lin’ th’ ones that aren’t treasure maps, hones’ly.”

Misumi hits his heel against the chest. It rings out a hollow sound. “How do you know that’s the right one?”

“Hm?”

“How do you know that’s the map we’re looking for?”

“Ah- that comes wi’ practice and gettin’ used t’how Henry manages the maps,” Francoise admits, rolling up the map again before tossing it his way. Misumi catches it effortlessly as she goes scrounging around again. “Tha’, an’ we think rather alike, yeah?”

Misumi cocks his head to the side. “‘Cause both of you were once wanted scourges of the sea, right?”

“Mm,” Francoise confirms offhandedly before pulling out a map and unrolling it again. “... Nay, not it.” She rolls it up and shoves it back in before pulling out another one. “... Y’were sayin’ somethin’?”

“You and Henry think rather alike because you’re both wanted scourges of the sea, right?” Misumi repeats patiently.

Francoise pauses in her perusal to look at him. “Well. When y’put it tha’ way, yeah, s’pose we are, aren’t we?”

“Kazu would call that ‘vibing’ with each other.” Misumi makes a triangle with his hands in front of his heart. “You and Henry vibe with each other a lot, to the point that you two are very much in sync and fit well together, like two triangles making an even bigger and better triangle!” He looks down at his hands. “I’d show you, but I don’t have enough hands to make enough triangles.” Pause. “Did you know your eyes are triangles?”

Francoise touches the corner of her eye, eyebrow raised. “... Uh. ‘Fraid I didn’ ‘fore you said so, laddie.”

“Well, now you know!” He beams at her. “Sky should’ve told you you had triangular eyes, they’re very pretty.”

Francoise purses her lips. “... ‘Tis odd hearin’ you say tha’ when y’share a face with him, y’know. You and the cap’n have the stranges’ fascination wi’ triangles. I jus’ don’ get it.”

“That’s my doing, I think,” Misumi muses, a fond smile on his face as he recalls the epilogue-building session he had with the troupe. “We wrote an epilogue for you guys, that’s why you have Paul in the crew right now! Kazu really wanted Paul to be a part of the crew and not just an enemy.”

“So we have you lot t’thank for ‘im, eh?” With a grin, Francoise shifts her weight to one side, hand on her hip. “Not tha’ it’s a bad thing. He’s one o’ the only people who think on this here ship, an’ he’s not bad company.”

“Glad you think so! Kazu’s pretty attached to him, ehe.”

“Y’care a lot about him?”

“A whole lot. I love Kazu very much.” Misumi fiddles with the edge of his sleeve, suddenly feeling rather pensive. “I love Summer Troupe very much.”

Francoise nods. Misumi notes how the sharp edges of her eyes seem to soften when she looks at him. “Tha’s how I feel ‘bout this here crew as well.”

It’s quiet for the most part for the next few minutes as Misumi watches her turn around back to the maps, keenly aware of the sounds of Henry shouting above deck at Paul and Jonny. Now that he thought about it, there appeared to be a great deal of commotion presently happening above deck for three people simply directing a ship. He could hear at least two or three pairs of footsteps running to and fro in a hurry - a lot like when Juza and Banri were in a particularly terrible fight and Omi and Taichi were on their way to break them up. The wood of the ship made the steps echo in a way that had him listening intently to how they were paced.

Hurried, frenzied. A lot like a dance - but less relaxed. Henry’s footfalls in particular were distinct - his yells were less frequent than Jonny’s and Paul’s, but they were angrier.

Why was Henry so mad?

“Aha.”

The sound of rustling parchment makes Misumi look back at Francoise. “Found it?”

“That I did. C’mon, lad. We’re headin’ back ‘bove deck.”

**_BOOM!_ **

The sound of a cannonshot - and the sudden motion of the ship - makes Misumi jump. Immediately, Francoise’s expression sours. “And no’ a momen’ to lose, apparently. Seems like we ‘ave company.”

* * *

The instant they make it upstairs, Misumi narrowly dodges a gunshot to the ear by Francoise yanking on his arm and pulling him to the ground. He hits the floor with an ‘oof’, wind getting knocked out of him briefly.

A shadow casts itself above him and Francoise, and looking up he sees Henry soar above them, dropping and rolling in front of them before pulling himself back upright, slamming the person who’d shot at Misumi to a wall and pulling out his dagger. He doesn’t get to see what happens immediately afterward, however, because suddenly more people are boarding the ship.

People carrying guns and cutlasses.

Threats.

Or at least, would have been threats, had Paul not just roundhouse kicked one in the nose right in front of him before grabbing the poor man by the shoulders and tossing him at another, knocking them both off the ship. They’re quickly replaced by two others, however, coming from a ship that Misumi notices is floating next to theirs.

“Francoise!” Paul growls. “A little goddamn  _ backup  _ would be nice, thanks!”

Francoise snarls incoherently, an arm still draped over Misumi, but Misumi knows it’s not angrily directed at Paul specifically. Before he can even react the woman shoves him into rolling on his stomach on the floor of the ship, kicking herself back up into a crouch. When she rolls up a pants leg, Misumi sees her pull out at least five different throwing knives from a holder strapped to her lower leg before locking them in between her fingers and sweeping her arm out in a fan, releasing each one with a speed that he’s pretty sure only he, Muku, and Hisoka could match in real time.

The knives tear at flesh and clothing, but don’t hit most of their targets thanks to their reaction time. One knife, however, makes its home in an unfortunate man’s chest - a man that Misumi doesn’t recognize in any way. He drops to the ground, clutching at the blade lodged in his chest and bleeding out.

Next to him is a dead body. Misumi recognizes it as the man Henry had slammed into a wall earlier. There is only a gaping wound in his chest.

He doesn’t know how to react at first.

“BEHIND YOU!” Paul yells at him.

On instinct, Misumi swerves and ducks right as a cutlass swipes at him from behind, missing him by mere inches. He drops to the floor again and rolls over just in time to see Jonny barrel into the culprit with a yell, shoving them off the ship’s edge screaming.

The splash is loud, but not as loud as Henry’s shout of “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

**_BOOM!_ **

Misumi kicks himself back upright just in time to see the neighboring ship get blasted by a cannonball, the ship teetering back and forth precariously in the waves. A lot of the crew on the neighboring ship still alive panics, but one stares at him directly when he meets their gaze. He sees a gun aim at him, and-

The man that had been aiming at his head drops dead. When he turns his head, he sees Henry lower a gun, face murderous.

“Another one,” he snarls at Jonny, who’d taken his place at the cannons.

“But, Henry, this be our las’ cannonball for now-”

“DID I FUCKING STUTTER, JONNY?! FIRE IN THE FUCKING HOLE!”

“Aye aye, cap- FUCK!”

**_BOOM!_ **

The second cannonball smashes into the broadside. Jonny falls over.

With eerie calm, Misumi goes to the side of the ship and clings to the railing, and watches the ship sink alongside the sun on the horizon. His grip on the railing leaves his knuckles whiter than a sheet.

* * *

“Sorry you had to see that,” Paul tells him later, when it’s just the two of them left on deck.

They were already a considerable distance away from the sunken ship. No survivors had been left - guaranteed, since Jonny had tossed a few burning torches on the opposing crew’s deck and lit everything on fire. Misumi had watched everything go up in flames, the light of the fire brilliant against the sunset.

The sun since then had long sunk below the horizon, the moon now in its half phase above their heads. Misumi was presently draping his arms over the railing, watching the waves of the sea lap at the bottom of the ship lazily, reflection of the moon bright and distorted. Jonny was busy in the galley with Henry, figuring out dinner, while Francoise had been left to dispose of the dead bodies all on her own. Not exactly something that should’ve been left up to a woman, even one as notorious as Francoise.

Well, it  _ was  _ supposed to be Paul’s task. But Francoise had looked like she was a dagger away from knifing anyone that crossed her, so Paul had swiftly made the decision to let her do it instead. So now he was standing there with Misumi, watching the waves. The winds were particularly gentle that night, leading the boat forward towards their next destination without much ceremony.

Misumi hums pleasantly. “Mmm. It’s okay. They were trying to attack the ship, right? Do you know them?”

“No. Never seen their lot. Must be a new bunch trying to make a name for themselves. Not that they’ll get anywhere when we’ve got Bloody Henry and Blackbeard on this crew,” Paul snorts. “Not to brag or anything. They’re absolutely frightening in their own right.”

“Not really.”

“Huh?”

“Francoise and Henry aren’t that scary,” Misumi shakes his head. “They’re just very protective of everyone here, that’s all, because they love everyone on this ship a lot. Don’t you love them too?”

Paul gives him an odd look before chuckling. “Why do I have the feeling you’ve asked this question to someone else before?”

Misumi only gives him a smile in response.

They both turn to the water. When Misumi peers down into the waves, he thinks he sees the glint of silver scales from what he thinks is a school of fish reflecting moonlight as they swim past the ship.

“I don’t even know how that ship managed to end up here in the middle of nowhere to fight us specifically,” Paul sighs, leaning on the edge. “We’re literally in a blind spot between Morgana’s Isle and Breakdown Point right now, somewhere close to Hydrangea Isle if Francoise is to be believed. On top of that, there’s literally nothing of value they could loot from us if we surrendered.”

Misumi could name at least fifty different triangles of value right now on the ship, but he doesn’t say that - Paul didn’t need to hear about it right now. “Maybe it was just bad luck.”

“Maybe.” Paul props up an elbow, resting his cheek on his palm. “Can’t help but feel like they were  _ sent  _ by someone though, you know? You don’t just send no-names like that to attack a pirate ship currently in the middle of nowhere. Especially not if you’re unaware that the ship is home to two of the most notorious pirates on the seven seas and a former Naval captain.” A pause. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, actually.”

Misumi hums. “Maybe you just needed someone to listen to you.”

“And that’s usually Sky, but…” Paul drifts off, and Misumi falls silent.

They both watch the waves in the distance.

“Misumi?”

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

When he looks at Paul, the older man is frowning considerably. The fact that he shares a face with Kazunari while wearing such a frown makes him frown as well; it’s like Kazunari himself was frowning. “You… you saw two people just drop dead in front of you. Even I get a little uneasy from time to time.”

“Oh.” Misumi ponders this before smiling. “... I’m fine, I think. Don’t worry, don’t worry.”

“... You’re sure?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Paul didn’t look like he believed him, but he doesn’t press further. It reminds him of Winter Troupe - the way they didn’t press each other to share if they didn’t want to.

Misumi peers down in the water, and stares when his bright eyes suddenly meet curious blue ones, peering up at him from the waves. Where had he seen those eyes before? Something… about Tsuzuru… not Tsuzuru himself, his eyes were more teal than blue, but… a friend of Tsuzuru’s?

“Misumi! Paul!” Henry’s voice calls out.

Dinner was ready.

Misumi opens his mouth, ready to respond to the call, but before he can say anything, the frighteningly familiar eyes widen, and Misumi watches as they disappear into the waves. Silver scales again glint in the moonlight.

“Dinner’s ready- Misumi?” Paul glances at him. “You alright?”

He’s fine - this he says with a nod - but he’s still focused on the eyes he’d seen in the waves.

Who - or what - was that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: captain sky's pirates
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- misumi ikaruga [not sky]  
> \- paul, the former naval captain [kazunari]  
> \- henry, the bloody scourge [muku]  
> \- francoise, the blackbeard [yuki]  
> \- jonny, the deckhand [tenma]
> 
> \---
> 
> HELP SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG EVERYONE I WAS BUSY IRL AND I WAS AT A BLOCK FOR A BIT ON HOW TO PROGRESS but now i think i know where i'm going with sky pirates specifically. i just want to write henry but sobsobsob
> 
> anyway as usual yell at me @ ryukogo_art on twitter and @ryukogo on tumblr if you'd like, all i do is mukuyuki brainrot there, on occasion killing game brainrot.
> 
> speaking of killing games, anyone here play twst?? a friend has a twst killing game in the works if you'd like to join!


	22. xxii. siren's call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: drowning?

When he opens his eyes, he’s staring at the ceiling of the dorms again.

But it’s not his and Kumon’s room - this he recognizes that much. It’s Tenma and Yuki’s room’s ceiling - he can tell because the ceiling isn’t plastered in the tiny glow in the dark triangle stickers that he’d stuck among Kumon’s glow in the dark stars. When he rises, he realizes that he’s been lying down on the floor of their room, bundled up in blankets and rolling around on pillows that look like they’d been pilfered from the other Summer Troupe bedrooms.

Around him are bodies - familiar ones, in a way. They’re all asleep - but when Misumi takes a closer look, he realizes with dawning clarity that the people sleeping all around him were the Summer Troupe. Even Tenma and Yuki were just lying on the ground with them as though it were a sleepover, even though they had their own beds. Each of them are bundled up in their blankets, the minute rising and falling of the sheets the only indicators that they are still breathing.

Misumi looks around, perplexed. Wasn’t he - hadn’t he been on Sky’s pirate ship only a while ago? He’d had dinner with Sky’s crew, even sang a shanty or two when Jonny had prompted before Paul had suggested he and Henry take first shift, leaving Jonny to lead Misumi to where he could sleep in the meantime. This happened to be in Sky’s cabin, in his bed. It would’ve been fine that he was sleeping alone… except he’d already gotten used to having Kumon around, his breathing breaking the silence of his triangular room.

Now the room he was in wasn’t triangular, and Kumon wasn’t there either. The ship was being rocked to and fro by gentle waves, like a baby’s crib by a mother’s hand. But he’d managed to fall into a fitful sleep anyway, his clothes being hung out to dry with the rest of the laundry while he was tangled in sheets that had been Sky’s - if Paul’s words were any indication -, listening to the sound of a voice on the waves. He’d been lent one of Sky’s shirts and pants as well - though they were a little big on him.

He’d been listening to that voice, singing out a haunting melody, before he’d woken up back in the dorms like this. Except… he couldn’t move his own limbs now all of a sudden. He wants to stand up, but for some reason his body isn’t cooperating. He’s lying back down on the pillow and snuggling into the blankets instead. Misumi tries to kick off the sheets, but his legs aren’t responding to him.

What was happening?

His eyes close, and for a moment, his world is engulfed in darkness again.

When he opens his eyes again… he’s back on the ship.

Misumi jolts up from the bed and immediately scrambles towards the porthole closest to him in the room (this one was right next to Sky’s bed), fingers grasping the edge as he dares lean out as far as he can. Water as far as the eye could see, the moon still relatively high above them. The sound of the waves, splashing against the ship in nature’s rhythmic lullaby. No islands in sight yet - just water, and clear skies. He was most definitely back in the world of Captain Sky’s Pirates.

So what was that then… a dream?

He could feel for a fact that it hadn’t been a dream - it’d been too real for it to be one. The details had been all too exact, all too precise - and his dreams were never like that. He dreamed of triangles and happy places and Madoka and his grandfather and Mankai and oh he was falling? He was falling? No wait-

Misumi nearly falls out the porthole at the sudden lurch of the ship. Once the ship rights itself a little more, however, he slides himself out of bed and stretches before wandering out and eventually finding himself back on deck. It didn’t seem like anyone was up.

“Up late, aren’t ye?”

Misumi turns around.

Leaning against the ship’s railing is Henry, toying with the dull edge of his knife idly. When Misumi lifts his gaze to the wheel, he sees Francoise manning the ship this time, Paul nowhere in sight.

Misumi gives Henry a curious blink. “What happened? The ship kinda went-” and here he mimes the ship tilting over a little. “- and I almost fell out the boat.”

“That would be Paul and Franny tradin’ places for the night, since it’s her turn a’ th’ wheel. I’ happens sometimes, y’get used to it,” Henry answers smoothly. Misumi watches as his eyes flicker to the woman at the wheel before looking back at him. “Sorry if we woke ye, lad.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Kinda had trouble sleeping, anyway.”

Henry snorts, but not unkindly. “You  _ did  _ see two bilge rats die in front o’ ye, after all. Paul tells me ye migh’ be keepin’ silent ‘bout it.”

“...” Misumi doesn’t answer immediately - he only smiles at Henry before surreptitiously turning his gaze upwards towards the crow’s nest, unconsciously drawing triangles around himself with the way he swings his arms back and forth. A little like a protective barrier around himself, Kumon would’ve said. “You needed to do it, right?”

The man eyes him thoughtfully. “We give no quarter on this here ship, Misumi, so yes. Yer a special case.”

“You mean if I didn’t so obviously seem to replace Sky and you’re not sure if killing me would kill him too, I’d already be dead, right?”

Henry doesn’t answer. He only swings his knife around and plays with it a little more.

Misumi only smiles at him again. It’s all he can think to do before going to walk around in a circle around the main post, staring up at the crow’s nest high above the ship.

It’s okay, he thinks. He understands why Henry would do something like that - he was scared for Sky, and scared for everyone on the ship and what could happen without their beloved captain. He wanted to protect them - and he protected him, right? The man had shot him and Henry was acting in self-defense of another. Henry was just concerned for the crew and captain he’d grown to love so much. Misumi understood growing to love a group of people so much that your heart could explode at any moment.

“Y’seem like y’got yer sea legs already,” Henry notes with interest as he goes. “Ye been on a pirate ship before then?”

Misumi glances at him briefly. “Mmm, sorta. There was this neat amusement park called Buccaneer World that was pirate-themed that we went to for role study for our play on you guys, and we had lots of fun there! I chased a pirate and saved Yuki for a triangle then!”

“... Ye do be aware tha’ buccaneer be relatin’ to those bilgerats on the Caribbean, righ’?”

“It’s a very specific term,” Misumi agrees sagely. It’s funny, he thinks - Muku had read up all about the differences between pirates and corsairs and buccaneers and privateers as part of his role study, and he’d told everyone in the Summer Troupe about it afterwards. And now he was talking about it with Henry. “But they were having fun, and I was having fun. People get the terms mixed up a lot, so some people excuse it.”

Henry purses his lips. His finger traces the sharp edge of his knife. “And you?”

“Hm?”

“Do  _ you  _ excuse it?”

“Uh uh,” Misumi shakes his head fervently. “Muku said we shouldn’t forget the differences even if we’re having fun, so I try and always remember. I don’t always remember, though… but I still try!”

The man only continues to watch him, silent.

“Hey, hey, can I go up there?” Misumi points up at the crow’s nest. “Is that allowed? I wanna see if I can find any triangles from up there.”

Henry gestures idly with the knife at him, and with a grin Misumi launches himself at the rope ladder leading up to the crow’s nest, practically swinging his way up. He can tell Henry’s watching him with keen interest as he clambers his way upward, completely at ease despite the slight swaying of the ship as he goes.

The moment he reaches the crow’s nest, he swings himself up and lands smoothly on the wooden platform, a hand on the railing of the crow’s nest as he goes to gaze beyond the horizon. When he’d been to Buccaneer World, he’d been given the chance to do something similar on one of the park’s attractions with Muku, so such a setting was rather familiar to him for the most part.

A sudden gust of cold wind passes by, riddling his skin with goosebumps. He pretends it’s Muku brushing past him to look through a telescope into the distance.

* * *

_ “Misumi, Misumi, you should look at this! The mountains are triangles, and if you look closer, the bridge between them makes up the side of another triangle between the mountains!” _

* * *

“See anythin’?” Henry calls from below him, and he looks down to see the pink haired man staring back up at him, a hand on his hip. “Since yer up there an’ all.”

Misumi squints.

Nothing but the sea. A few flying fish jumping out of the water, but nothing special.

A big fish! He sees a big fish- a really  _ big  _ fish, jumping out of the water. He watches it curiously as it jumps fairly high and dives back into the water, and-

Why did that look… vaguely human?

When Misumi scrambles back down the rope ladder with an uncertain shake of his head, Henry shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, pushing his hair away from his forehead briefly. “Figures. There’s no’ much ou’ here, anyway, but y’can’t be careful enough. These waters be haunted.”

“By what?” Misumi asks him curiously.

Henry shakes his head. “They be old pirates’ tales, lad. Y’ever heard o’ the sayin’ tha’ havin’ women on board be bad luck?”

Misumi’s gaze flickers to Francoise questioningly.

“... If yer worried ‘bout Franny, she be a woman, but to th’ seas, she’s th’ infamous Blackbeard,” Henry tosses the knife up in the air before catching it with his hand. He passes it to his other hand as he adds, “An’ the seas recognize th’ name yer most notorious for.”

“Like Bloody Henry?”

“Aye.” Henry spins the knife carelessly around his fingers like a baton twirler. Misumi admires the deftness of his hands. “Tha’, an’ we’re in more modern times, lad. But tha’s no’ wha’ y’asked me. T’was long ‘fore I decided on bein’ a pirate that these tales been passed down to sailors old an’ new alike. Those who brough’ women on board were fated t’anger the gods o’ the seas, and would meet their watery doom. So thus they threw ‘em overboard.”

“Who?”

“Th’ women.”

Misumi gives him an appalled look. 

“Calm yourself, laddie. I’ve never done anythin’ o’ the sort meself.” Henry rests a hand on his hip before gesticulating with the other hand. “Th’ point t’my tale is, they say tha’ most o’ th’ women who were drowned at sea are given a choice - to pass on t’ th’ afterlife, or t’ take revenge on sailors who left them an’ their sisters t’drown.”

Misumi cocks his head to the side.

“Tha’ is, they become sirens,” Henry clarifies. “She who sings and pulls sailors t’their deaths.”

“Like mermaids, but bad?”

“... Eh. More or less. Bu’ le’ i’ be known I don’ necessarily believe they exis’.”

Misumi’s definitely heard of sirens before. He briefly recalls coming across the topic while reading up on pirates with Muku, but… “But you’re still careful of them anyway.”

“Jonny is, for the mos’ part. We just all… picked up on it. But anyway...” Henry sheathes his knife again before calling out to the woman at the wheel, “Franny darlin’, how much longer ‘til Hydrangea Isle, y’figure?”

“Dawn, at least,” Francoise answers, eyes trained only on the horizon. She shifts her hold on the ship’s wheel to only one hand as she adds, “We dock there briefly, then continue on down t’ Breakdown Poin’ as scheduled, an’ we’ll hit it by… this time tomorrow, barrin’ any problems.”

“Good.” To Misumi, Henry says, “Get some sleep, lad - tomorrow’s a big day. While yer here, might as well make yerself useful, and help Jonny an’ Paul wi’ repairs.”

“What’ll you do?”

“With any luck, we’ll be havin’ roast bird on th’ morrow.” Henry gives him an almost sharklike grin. “That is to say, I’ll be huntin’. Franny’s… gonna do whatever she’ll be doin’. Prob’ly scavengin’.”

Misumi cocks his head to the side. “You don’t know?”

“She’s been to Hydrangea Isle before. If she’s got any unfinished business, tha’s none o’ my business unless she’s about t’ die.” Henry shrugs, only to lurch as the ship suddenly rocks violently again. “What the- Franny, what’s goin’ on?!”

The woman only shouts back, “We hit somethin’!”

Henry heads for the nearest railing as Misumi goes the other way to check on the other side. While he personally doesn’t see anything on his end, Henry swears violently when he glances at him - which meant he probably saw something on  _ his  _ end.

“A shark?” Misumi asks.

Henry shakes his head. “Looks like rock formations juttin’ outta th’ water. We don’ usually miss ‘em like this.” To Francoise, he yells, “How’s it lookin’ up there?”

“Terrible,” Francoise yells back. “Hen, can y-”

“Already on it,” the man says before gesturing for Misumi to follow him. Misumi is happy enough to follow as Henry instructs, “Stay there, an’ yell t’ Franny when there’s a rock tha’ y’can see comin’ up. I’d send ye up again, bu’ eyes closer t’ th’ water are wha’ we need righ’ now. I need t’check on somethin’ an’ wake up Jonny.”

“Both sides?”

“Ye’ll do fine, laddie. I need t’ check if the ship’s rudder’s damaged an’ if th’ hull’s gotten wrecked.” Henry’s gaze is stormy as he hurries away, leaving Misumi alone on deck.

“Misumi!” Francoise shouts.

Misumi stands at attention, saluting. “Francoise, ma’am!” Beat. “Oh, right- hold on-” He darts to the left, and peers over the edge the farthest he can and forward. None there. He darts to the right. None there either. “Straight ahead, ma’am!”

“None in sight?”

“Aye aye!” Misumi pauses, and looks again. “Um, wait- rock over there! Rock ahoy, ma’am! To the right!”

Francoise snorts before spinning the wheel and making the ship curve to the left. Misumi watches as she barely misses the rock with her curve, and cheers when she successfully makes it through. “Easy. Keep goin’, ‘Sumi!”

“Aye aye, ma’am!”

* * *

By the time Jonny and Henry come back on deck after checking on the ship and Henry takes Francoise’s place at the wheel, Misumi’s already a little tired, slumping over the edge of the railing. He’d been running back and forth between both sides of the ship the whole time for Francoise, and while he had an impressive amount of stamina, even he was a  _ little  _ winded, considering the way the ship swayed and swerved.

“Y’did good, lad,” Francoise had patted his shoulder before going to her room to turn in for the night. Misumi had watched her leave with a satisfied smile.

Now, it was just him, Henry, and Jonny on deck.

Jonny was busy checking on the rigging, making sure everything was in order, and Misumi didn’t want to disturb him, so for now he was just watching the waves again, humming as he watches the glint of silver scales under the water.

**_Mmmm… mmm…_ **

Misumi perks up. It’s the same singing he’d heard earlier… he thinks. No, there’s something different about it.

**_A point, another… and yet another…_ **

He looks at Jonny and Henry. It didn’t seem like they could hear it.

**_Connected together, a treasure forever… within the center, we’ll be together…_ **

That sounded kind of like a triangle. A point, another, and yet another… yeah, definitely a triangle. Three points connected together… a really good treasure.

Wait, who was even singing?

**_Take my hand, and we’ll sing together… of the treasure that lies at the bottom of the sea..._ **

Misumi leans across the railing, straining to hear better. He thinks he sees something glint underwater again, and when he looks down, he sees- golden eyes?

Where has he seen those before?

_ Sky? Sky, can you hear me…? _

That’s… a different voice? This is… this is the voice he’d heard that was singing to him earlier. This was a different one.

**_Mmm… mmm… the treasure at the bottom of the sea…_ **

_ Sky…! _

The golden eyes are staring up at him, and when the owner surfaces, even Misumi’s surprised to see the face staring back at him being none other than Omi Fushimi’s.

He makes the mistake of reaching out to him, genuinely surprised.

‘Omi’ pulls him into the water with a splash.

“MISUMI!” Jonny shrieks before he hits the water.

Misumi struggles in the water, all loose cotton and sagging pants, as ‘Omi’s grip on his arms tighten. And then ‘Omi’ lets go, bubbles hitting Misumi’s face, and in the murky saltwater he thinks he hears a conversation spoken in a language he doesn’t understand.

He’s running out of air. He struggles to swim up, but ‘Omi’ had dragged him in too deep for him to swim up fast or high enough on top of his clothes weighing him down. He closes his eyes, trying not to let the saltwater get in, but it’s difficult when he’s straining to swim upward.

He was… getting so tired...

_ You won’t die… you won’t die… _

It’s the voice that had been singing to him - the nice one. Not the other one that sang of triangles and treasures. It’s speaking to him this time. His limbs feel so heavy.

_ Sky… you won’t die…! _

It’s the same voice he heard when he fell asleep. When Misumi dares open his eyes in the saltwater, he sees arms reaching out to him and pulling him closer, holding him close to their chest. His fingers unintentionally brush against silver scales, and quietly he realizes they’re a lot like triangles.

When his head lolls up, he sees the face of the one cradling him, and remembers the name. Kaya Mizuno.

_ I won’t allow it…! _

Misumi blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: captain sky's pirates
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- misumi ikaruga [not sky]  
> \- paul, the former naval captain [kazunari]  
> \- henry, the bloody scourge [muku]  
> \- francoise, the blackbeard [yuki]  
> \- jonny, the deckhand [tenma]  
> \- ???, misumi's downfall [omi]  
> \- ???, misumi's savior(?) [mizuno]
> 
> \---
> 
> my brother, complaining: STOP OPENING LIKE TWENTY TABS ON PIRATES
> 
> as usual yell at me @ ryukogo_art on twitter and @ryukogo on tumblr if you'd like, all i do is mukuyuki brainrot there, on occasion killing game brainrot.


	23. xxiii. how much is an interdimensional call?

If you’d asked Tenma what he thought he’d be doing first upon finding a safe place in a new world, there’s an incredibly high likelihood he would’ve answered ‘definitely not having tea with Scheherazade of  _ A Thousand and One Nights _ ’.

Or, to be rather specific, the Scheherazade of Water Me!, since he knew for a fact she was fundamentally different from the Scheherazade of the original story. After all, he was at least 80% sure the original Scheherazade didn’t look like Yuki and had green hair and orange eyes - nor did the original Sinbad have  _ pink  _ hair. That, and the original Scheherazade had actually married the king - this Scheherazade had married childhood friend Ali Baba. And Ali Baba wasn’t even from the  _ same story. _

These were all things he’d learned mostly secondhand from Muku, who’d taken in the entirety of  _ A Thousand and One Nights  _ without so much as batting an eye in their first year together. He was uncertain as to whether or not to just call her something entirely different out of respect for the original, but he supposes he could ask? Kazunari’s Aladdin had called her ‘Herappi’, but that felt strange on the tongue now that he was actually  _ facing  _ her and not just facing Yuki in costume.

‘Herappi’ was cutesy. Very Yuki. Scheherazade… was more elegant.

That’s all Tenma’s opinion, anyway.

“You look lost in thought.”

_ Ah, fuck. _

Tenma shakes his head and refocuses. Across from him is Scheherazade - that is, the Scheherazade he knew best -, fingers delicately holding onto her cup of tea. An eyebrow is raised as she looks at him, and he’s reminded so viscerally of his roommate as she asks, “Rial for your thoughts, Tenma?”

“Mmgh.” Tenma scratches at his head, a little frustrated. “Sorry. Just kind of… lost, I guess.” Yuki would’ve said that he was just lost in general, given his terrible sense of direction, but…

He wasn’t with Yuki right now.

The woman sips from her cup thoughtfully before answering. “I can only imagine. This isn’t your world, after all. I’ve read tales of people who’ve found themselves lost in worlds so different from their own that they either adapt to survive, or die trying.” Sip. “... Such was your fate, almost, had Aladdin not found you.”

“Don’t remind me.” Tenma shudders. He’d slump on the table like he usually did back at Mankai when there was a particularly difficult problem he was wrestling with on his worksheets, but there wasn’t enough room and he wasn’t keen on accidentally pissing off a Yuki lookalike. Antagonizing Yuki was fine - but antagonizing a  _ grown woman? _

In her  _ own house? _

Tenma liked his wig where it was, thanks.

“At any rate… you still aren’t certain how you even came to trade places with Ali Baba specifically,” Scheherazade sighs into her drink. “And I get a distinct feeling that Jinan won’t take kindly to seeing you on the grounds of his shop again, so that’s certainly out of the question.” She laughs at the sight of Tenma going pale. “Don’t worry. He won’t think to look for you here. As far as he’s concerned, me and Ali Baba have no children, or relatives apart from my father and sister, as well as Ali Baba’s brother.”

He stops tracing rings on the rim of his cup with a finger. “Ali Baba has a brother?”

“They don’t talk anymore.” And she leaves it at that, a warning note ringing clear in her tone.

Tenma drops the subject like a hot potato.

It’s quiet for a few moments as the conversation slows to a stop. Outside the house, Tenma can pick up the faint sounds of people conversing rather loudly on the streets in words he’s surprised he can understand. Wasn’t he in like, Persia or something? He’s not sure where Tsuzuru had mapped this out, actually - or how loyal he’d been to the source material. Was he even going to deal with this right now? “Where are we, actually?”

“Hm?”

“Is this like… Persia?” Well. He said it now. Can’t backtrack now.

Scheherazade considers it for a moment. “Is that where our story is set in your world?”

“Uh, I think?” Tenma settles into where he’s seated awkwardly, lips drawing themselves into a thin line. He’s not sure how to broach the topic - nor why he even brought it up in the first place. Trying to organize his thoughts is like rifling through an unlabeled file cabinet while he was an unpaid intern. “Just wanting to make sure and all. I already get really lost just by being me.”

“It’s alright. Does the location matter that much to you?”

“Not really, but… it’d be? Nice to have some sort of name to the place or a landmark.”

_ Some semblance of normalcy,  _ is a phrase he holds back, because if he  _ was  _ in Persia then he could pretend, even if only for a moment, that he’d simply done some sort of fast travel via a mirror across Asia and not ended up in an entirely different world from the one he knew. Then he could use his phone and brave the painful costs of an international call-

_ His phone! _

Scheherazade watches him with quiet interest as he fumbles around his pockets and produces his phone, eyes sparkling like he’d found an entire treasure. His fingers nearly dropping his phone, Tenma hits the power button-

\- and is immediately bodied by his phone background.

_ Banri fucking Settsu, _ is the first thing that hits his thoughts when he sees that instead of his prized bonsai, he sees a selfie of Banri as his lockscreen instead, making a peace sign. He knows this for certain - that was  _ not  _ the lockscreen he’d set the first time. His lockscreen was of him and the other former Ouka High kids (Juza and Taichi) during an outing with them at an amusement park.

“What is that?” Scheherazade asks as he swipes his screen and puts in his passcode.

Tenma blinks and looks down at his phone. The home screen image was at least unchanged - still an image of Summer Troupe down at the beach. Kazunari had pilfered his phone for the groupie, so he looked like he’d been caught with a rather undignified expression while surrounded by the rest of the troupe. “It’s… a cellphone.”

“A cellphone?”

“Uh.” Tenma fumbles for an explanation as he puts the phone on the table. “It’s for talking with people in far away places - but that’s  _ only  _ if they also have a phone,” he immediately appends. “So we can’t call Ali Baba.”

Scheherazade raises an eyebrow. “This implies you think he’d know how to use a cellphone. If I’ve never heard of it, I highly doubt he would have, much less know how to use one.”

“Point,” Tenma admits. “Still. If he’s with my troupe, at least one of them can answer their phone. I have their numbers.”

“Troupe? Are you part of a traveling band of performers?”

“Something like that.” Tenma considers telling her that while they did travel on occasion, they were more so made to perform at a main location than do that. Sakyo’s budgeting was a force only Yuki and Azami ever dared fistfighting verbally. “We don’t really travel, we just perform in a main place and go out sometimes when the opportunity shows itself.”

“I see.” She tilts her head at the phone. “You think it will work?”

“I can deal with the pain of international phone call bills,” Tenma waves it off before scrolling through his contacts with a frown.  _ Rurikawa… Rurikawa… _

Tenma hits the icon for ‘cabbage patch bitch’.

It’s probably not a good idea to pull up the image of Yuki Rurikawa in the presence of Scheherazade, but quite frankly Tenma was looking for literally any excuse to contact  _ someone  _ he knew and Yuki was one of the few people he trusted to keep a level head in situations like these… on occasion. The thing about Summer Troupe was, they were all a special brand of chaotic - they all shared a single brain cell and they liked to play hot fucking potato with it.

And right now, Tenma knew he was  _ not  _ the one holding it.

Yuki’s icon on his phone is pretty outdated, now that he thinks about it. They’d done a rerun of Shinobi, and he’d used a photo of Yuki as Sae as his icon on his phone. He supposes it’s distinct enough from Scheherazade that there would be no mistaking her for-

“Is that supposed to be me?”

\- or not! Fuck!

“Guh.” Tenma fumbles with his phone for a bit as Scheherazade leans over the table to get a better look. When her fingers touch the screen, it brings up Yuki’s contact photo at a much larger scale, prompting her to ask, “Is this the me you know, then?”

“I uh.” Wait. “Wait, what do you mean, the me you know? I mean the you I know. I mean- bah.”

Scheherazade laughs. “You look like my husband, but not quite. That, and you seemed to be visibly surprised when you saw me. Aladdin told me about how he’d mistaken you for Ali Baba, hence how he managed to bail you out in the first place. I can only rightfully assume I have a counterpart of your very own.”

Tenma wants to melt into a puddle right then and there. Scheherazade was  _ smart _ .

Well, either that, or she had eyes. Both were perfectly viable.

“You’re going to contact them?”

“Mm. He’s probably wondering where the hell I am right now.” Tenma hits the ‘call’ button and lifts the phone to his ear.

_ Riiing… riiiiing… _

Tenma waits. And waits.

And is promptly bodied by the sound of- the sound of chewing?

Or rather, to be exact, the sound of  _ something  _ clacking against the surface of the phone. He wouldn’t lie - the sound was the oddest one he’d ever heard. Trying to find an appropriate descriptor was like trying to fish out a single fish egg in the middle of a stack of oranges.

Tenma makes a strange face, which makes Scheherazade raise an eyebrow. Before she can say anything, however, Tenma’s expression contorts into that of utter confusion as he hears the sound of the phone being dropped. And yelling. He can’t make out the words at all thanks to static garbling up the good majority of it.

“Is everything alright?” Scheherazade asks, genuinely concerned.

Tenma opens his mouth to respond -

\- ah. The sound of… a cat hissing? And… wait, is that Yuki’s voice?

“Rurikawa?” Tenma calls. He has a feeling he can’t hear him though, judging from the yelling and the hissing. “Rurikawa- oi,  _ Yuki- _ ”

A final shriek of a cat.

_ Beeeeeeeep. _

The call is dropped.

Tenma pulls the phone away from his ear, genuinely baffled. “Huh.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, for one thing, the call went through,” Tenma stares down at the phone screen. “Which I didn’t think would actually work because I don’t think you guys have reception. And another thing? The call went through.”

“That’s the same thing, Tenma.”

“Emphasis.”

Scheherazade gives him a Look. “Well, did you manage to contact your friend… Yuki, was it? Did you manage to contact him or not?”

“I reached him, but the ‘signal’-” And by fucking God this was barely a signal. “- was all weird. Static and everything - er, I guess you wouldn’t know what static is in this case, hold on. Fuck.” Tenma freezes, wondering if Scheherazade knows the curse word. What even was the Persian equivalent of ‘fuck’? Was that something Tsuzuru took into account? Fucking hell.

Scheherazade merely stares at him, willing him to continue. Tenma mentally exhales in relief.

“POINT IS. I didn’t actually get to contact him.” Tenma puts the phone down with a sigh, checking the battery. 90%. He’d have to be careful.

Scheherazade drums her fingers on the tabletop thoughtfully. “You won’t make an attempt again?”

“Not right now, I guess. It sounds like something’s up, and I don’t exactly have enough power for this…” He sighs irritably. “You don’t happen to have a charger do you.”

The woman blinks at him in what he could only describe as a very Yuki-like fashion, her face even taking on nearly the exact same expression of ‘really?’ that Tenma knew so well, painted lips twisting in a doubtful frown.

“... Yeah I thought so.” Tenma’s forehead hits the table in frustration. “God help me.”

“That’s what I was planning on trying to do, yes.” Scheherazade stands up, prompting Tenma to look up at her as she moves to the window, squinting at the skyline. “If you’re up to it this afternoon, we’ll be paying a visit to a friend of mine.”

Tenma’s voice is muffled as he asks, “Aladdin?”

“Aladdin’s helpful, but no. Right now, we’ll be asking help from Sinbad.”

Sinbad. Tenma nearly tumbles out of his seat in what was probably a mixture of excitement and clownery. That’s Muku’s character, isn’t it? “Tell me his hair is pink.”

“His hair is-? Oh. You’re referring to Sinbad the porter.” Scheherazade gives him a raised eyebrow and an intrigued smile. “Let me guess. Another counterpart. Yes, Sinbad the porter’s hair is pink. He’s an enigmatic but charming man, I’ll give you that.”

“Wait. So we’re  _ not  _ going to him?” Tenma blinks in confusion.

The woman tucks a lock of hair behind her ear thoughtfully. “We’ll end up passing by him, certainly. If you want to see him that badly, we’ll take him along. He’s bound to have knowledge of his own to pass on, considering that Ali Baba apparently found the lamp with him at one point.”

Tenma knows that gag. He blinks rapidly.

“... Tenma? Are you alright?”

“Ah- o-of course!” Tenma puffs his chest up as he sits up properly again. “Wait, so if we’re not going to Sinbad the porter, who are you talking about?”

“A good friend of both me and Sinbad the porter. You could say he’s a bit of a worldhopper. There was a bit of a misunderstanding between myself and him at first with his resemblance to…” And here Scheherazade falters only slightly, smile dropping briefly into a frown before curving back up in her usual smile. “... someone I’m not on good terms with. But Sinbad the porter helped clear things up considerably. We’re going to have to figure out how to distinguish between the two of them if they’re in one room, however.”

Tenma is, genuinely, incredibly confused. “Why? Who is it?” He has a feeling he’s forgetting something very important.

Scheherazade’s smile grows wider. “Sinbad the sailor, dear. We’ll be paying him a little visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: water me!
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- tenma sumeragi [not ali baba]  
> \- scheherazade, the clever storyteller and wife of ali baba [yuki]  
> \- sinbad the porter, a cryptic good friend of scheherazade [muku]  
> \- sinbad the sailor, a worldhopper of sorts [???]  
> \- aladdin, a good friend of ali baba and scheherazade [kazunari]
> 
> \---
> 
> whoa updates have been AGES AGO sorry for like zero proper brainrot in ages. water me! is the hardest to write for me i don't have a tenma voice in my head sobsob
> 
> as usual yell at me @ ryukogo_art on twitter and @ryukogo on tumblr if you'd like, all i do is mukuyuki brainrot there, on occasion killing game brainrot.


	24. xxiv. the search for sinbad

For the most part, finding the Sinbads was an easy feat. Scheherazade’s knowledge of Sinbad the porter’s daily haunts meant that by extension, she would always have someone to tip her off to Sinbad the sailor’s comings and goings, should she choose to inquire about them. Not that she ever had reason to seek him out often for such a purpose, really - it was Ali Baba who usually interacted with the sailor the most between the two of them.

Truly, finding them would be easy.

It was getting to them in the first place that would harbor a bit of difficulty.

“Ali Baba’s face is… fairly notable, after all,” Scheherazade muses, her back to Tenma. "With the work he does, many of the locals can and will recognize him by face alone, especially if seen with me, and since you resemble him rather well we’ll need to do something about that.”

She looks back at him.

Tenma stares back.

“... that, and I’m fairly certain nobody else has orange hair like the two of you do,” Scheherazade mutters thoughtfully, turning back to the chest she was facing. “Yes, we’ll need to do something about that…”

Tenma tries to look around her, eyebrows raised. “What’re you doing?”

“Ali Baba must have clothes that fit you somewhere,” Scheherazade mentions offhandedly, sifting through the chest. Tenma watches her lift out various colored textiles every now and then as if to assess them, before tucking them back inside with a displeased shake of the head. “Worst comes to worse, we’re pulling something out of my closet, or we’ll be sneaking you over to Sinbad the porter for assistance since we’re heading his way, at any rate.”

… she really reminded him of Yuki, the way she went through her husband’s clothes so critically. It was mildly frightening.

Tenma sits back on the rug, fingers idly scratching at the woven patterns of golden vines and stars on them. Scheherazade’s plan had sounded fairly simple enough: find Sinbad the porter either on his usual route or in one of his daily haunts while making sure Tenma was not under any circumstances recognized by any of Shahryar’s guards, and then seek his help in finding out the whereabouts of Sinbad the sailor to ask about… wait.

“Why are we looking for Sinbad the sailor again? Like, specifically him.” Tenma drums his fingers on the rug. “Can’t the porter Sinbad tell us what we need to know?”

“Tenma,” Scheherazade says patiently, tugging on what looked like animal furs, or cloth with an extreme likeness to it. He’s not sure why they’d have such things in heat like this. “We’re trying to get you and Ali Baba back home. Much as I adore Sinbad the porter, there’s only so much he himself can offer. Having the sailor as well offer his knowledge might help. He has, after all, seen many more places than I or Sinbad the porter ever will. There’s no doubt he will have encountered magic foreign to us - magic that could get you home.”

Tenma hums. “You don’t travel, huh.”

“I’ve found no true reason to go too far from here. As well read as I am, I’ve never really left here nor found much reason to,” Scheherazade muses.

“Like, not at all? Not even for fun?”

“Mm. My father’s considered it before, taking my sister and I out of here to a place where the king can’t get to us. But it’s been rather impossible lately thanks to the freak sandstorms that seem to surround a certain part of the route out.”

“Besides. I’m not leaving Ali Baba, nor the others, behind.” After a few minutes, she pauses in movement, and tugs something out from the chest. “Ah, here we go. Come here, Tenma. Try this on.”

* * *

“... I may have overestimated how well this would fit you,” the woman murmurs with a frown. “You look exactly like him in that.”

Tenma turns and twists around to get a look at himself, tugging on the clothes Scheherazade had offered him. It’s very similar to the attire he’d worn as Ali Baba in the play, really - baggy black pants, same blues and violets with gold trimming… minus the jewelry and the headdress, as well as the dagger on his hip, the attire was nearly a mirror’s image of the original. “... that’s probably a bad thing.”

“Quite,” Scheherazade taps her cheek with a finger before drawing his tunic shut a little higher above instead. Where Ali Baba had had his chest bared, now it was held shut - and fastened together by what Tenma guessed was an inside button he hadn’t seen. Much more similar to Muku’s attire for Sinbad. “... well. This may have to do for now. Try this on for me?”

She holds out a ghutra. It’s blue to match his top, with an agal of golden cord and an aquamarine. Er, at least, Tenma  _ thinks  _ it might be aquamarine. He’d heard Kumon ramble about Azami’s eyes being aquamarine before and these looked like the right color.

Tenma puts those on his head with a little difficulty, prompting Scheherazade to hide a smile and muffle a laugh before moving in to assist him. It reminds him a bit of the Director this time, the way she moves... 

… and the way she murmurs the proper way to put it on… it’s a little like Yuki again, but a lot less brutal and less like an annoying little brother would tug at him, but the fondness in the way she handles him reminds him of Igawa.

It’s both comforting and a bit lonely, realizing that none of the people that had initially come to mind were his own parents.

“There. This will hide your hair a little more. They won’t question you like this, I think.” Scheherazade steps back to check on her handiwork before pausing, examining Tenma’s face intently. “You’re frowning. Is something wrong?”

“...”

“Tenma?”

Tenma shakes his head, snapping himself out of the stupor. “I-It’s nothing. I’m fine. You were saying?”

“... As I was saying, you should be fine now with this getup. If we set out now,” she glances out the window. Tenma follows her gaze to the sun, high above their heads. “We can scout out the good majority of Sinbad’s usual route. By around this point he should either be traversing the harbor, as it’s the cooler route, or taking the shortcut around Parisa’s stall.”

“What about you?” Tenma blurts out.

Scheherazade looks at him, mildly amused. “If you’re wondering if I’m donning a disguise, not quite. Don’t worry, Tenma - I’m not going out like this.”

Tenma sure hoped the fuck not. As pretty as Yuki’s designed outfit for Scheherazade was, it wasn’t practical. It was more based for the play. He’s relieved to see Scheherazade slipping a loose tunic over her head and sliding into a long skirt, though the layers in this heat make him worry.

As if sensing his concern, she turns to him, drawing a shawl over her head. “The fabric is light and airy. I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m more worried about, really - have you never been in the heat before?”

“Not like this.” Japan was… pretty cold in comparison. They had summers, but not like this.

Scheherazade thinks for a bit. “... Better pack along a waterskin then. Just in case. We can’t have you passing out in the middle of the street, or we’re done for.”

* * *

The ‘Persian’ - and Tenma heavily mentally emphasizes the quotation marks for this one due to his own uncertainty - marketplace was, to put it frankly, less terrifying with Scheherazade to guide him.

Since they were moving at a much slower pace, he was able to get a better look at his surroundings - not that he’d be able to memorize them, really. But at least he’d get a better look at them. Now that he wasn’t running, he could take in exactly how  _ congested  _ this place was. Stalls lined nearly every corner, their goods ranging from fresh fruit to nuts, even kind of freshly caught fish. He can’t tell - the stench made him stick close to Scheherazade instead, clinging to her by the arm like a child would to his mother.

That is, if the child happened to be eighteen years old. That wasn’t… really a child now, was it. Huh.

Scheherazade chuckles lightly. “Don’t let go of my arm or hand. It’s very easy to get lost in here.”

“I-I’m not gonna!” Tenma huffs, but shyly he goes to clasp Scheherazade’s hand regardless. The warmth of her hand is a reassurance - the cool feeling of the golden ring on her middle finger pressing against his all too easy to overheat skin calming him slightly.

“Have you never been to a market before?” Scheherazade asks him amidst the noise of the marketplace, casual in her tone but soft enough that only they can hear despite all the clamor. “It really feels like your first time. Or is it perhaps that your markets aren’t like this?”

Tenma flinches ever so slightly - though he’ll deny doing so - as someone brushes past him, nearly knocking him over into Scheherazade. “It’s… crowded to hell and back, huh.”

“It’s a market day, so it most certainly is,” the woman muses. “My husband is good with haggling, so I sent him out to buy something today. He would be home by now if the two of you hadn’t swapped places. Watch your step. Hop.”

Scheherazade lifts the hand holding his own up, and Tenma’s inclined to hop as she says so - right as a rat being chased by a cat scampers by. Tenma’s eyes end up following them in awe as the crowds of people barely notice the furry intrusions, weaving around them with such ease as though such a thing was normal around these parts. And for all he knew, it probably was.

When his feet touch the ground again, Tenma blinks up at her inquisitively. “So then, we’re looking for Sinbad around here?”

“Not  _ here  _ here, no,” Scheherazade pulls him along carefully down a side alley, and it’s here that Tenma can actually claim to breathe a little better. There’s less people, and it’s more shaded than the open space from earlier thanks to the laundry being hung out to dry. Every now and then, people would glance at him and Scheherazade, and the best he could do was look away in the meantime.

This kind of atmosphere…

It felt charged. As if danger lurked around every corner.

It’s obvious with everyone’s posturing. Women that walked arm in arm with their husbands looked to be on high alert regardless, their husbands’ shoulders squared up as if ready for a fight at any possible moment. Those who ran smaller stalls seemed tense, and even the ragtag children that were traipsing about looked like they were being careful, wary about something that Tenma didn’t know about.

When he goes to voice this to his companion, however, Scheherazade only sighs. Tugging on her shawl, she says, “The king still seeks virgins to marry, for the most part. Everyone is wary of his explosive temper, man and woman, adult and child alike. You know why I’ve escaped his clutches, don’t you?”

“Because the Genie-” Scheherazade lifts a finger to her lips, and Tenma lowers his voice. “- because the Genie made you and Ali Baba married, right? Because married women can’t join the king’s harem.”

“Correct- ah.”

“What’s wrong?”

Scheherazade doesn’t answer, stopping in her tracks. “... Tenma, look away. Follow me.”

“Huh?”

“Come here.” And here Scheherazade pulls him to the side, and makes them merge with the clusters of people lingering around near the walls. The amount of people pressing up against him makes him a little claustrophobic, but Scheherazade’s consistent presence, her arms holding him to her chest, reassures him that he won’t get swept up in the masses.

Her words, however, end up prompting Tenma to look around and ahead -

\- and what he sees makes him choke on his own spit.

_ Kumon? _

That sure looked like Kumon. But… much, much older. About as old as Scheherazade. Angular in face, sharper eyes… much like Juza, if he had to compare directly. Dressed in the same clothes that Kumon had dressed in for the encore performance of Water Me! back in the day… but there was something about him that was distinctly  _ different  _ from Kumon. Tenma couldn’t place it yet. Said man was walking down the streets just like every other person, but… he carried with him a certain aura that somehow convinced some others to part a way for him.

_ What was Kumon’s role again… _

“Do not look his way,” Scheherazade hisses, drawing the ghutra over Tenma’s eyes to shield his gaze as not-Kumon walks past them. For the briefest of moments, Tenma lets himself peek at not-Kumon regardless-

\- and it hits him.

Kumon smiled with the warmth of the summer sun. This man looked like the darkness trailed behind him wherever he went.

There is no warmth in his cool golden gaze. Only an icy chill that somehow leaves Tenma feeling the shivers down his spine.

Once he’s a good distance away, however, Scheherazade exhales deeply, gently pulling Tenma along until they’re no longer lost in the crowds. Once they’re free, she lets go of him, prompting Tenma to ask, “That was-?”

“Isaar, a sorcerer.” Scheherazade adjusts her shawl before continuing to lead Tenma. “He’s had it out for Ali Baba ever since he failed to obtain the lamp. Twice.”

_ … Oh.  _ That sorcerer… right, they had Kumon playing that sixth role around the time they were doing the encore performance. The sorcerer who’d tricked Ali Baba and Aladdin into going into the cave.

That… meant that this world’s Kumon was no friend.

“We’re lucky he did not notice nor recognize us,” Scheherazade says softly. “The consequences would have been dire. If he’d known you were here and not Ali Baba, who knows what he could have done.”

Tenma shudders.

“Well, at any rate… come along, Tenma. We should be nearing one of Sinbad’s stopovers in a few minutes.”

* * *

Surely enough, they’d found Sinbad perched upon the steps of what looked like a restaurant, taking a short break from his deliveries for the day to eat an apple as a snack. At the sight of Scheherazade, he’d gladly stood up and opened his arms to her in a friendly embrace. Tenma wonders if the sight would have made Azami throw a fit.

“Hera. Lovely as always.” Sinbad laughs once they part.

Scheherazade snorts, but not unkindly. “And you’re still just as perplexing as ever. Do you  _ ever  _ plan on doing anything about the goat?”

“Maybe when Aladdin actually considers dropping by.” Sinbad laughs before he notices Tenma, standing awkwardly a few paces away from them. He lets go of Scheherazade entirely to approach him, giving him a once over. In turn, Tenma studies him as well.

Sinbad the porter, for lack of a better term, looked less like Muku and more like Muku’s older brother.

Where Muku was relatively baby faced and rounded, Sinbad was more angular, planes of his face more distinct, with a fair bit of scruff that looked so  _ strange  _ when Tenma recalled that the base template for his appearance was his younger troupe member. He had sleepier eyes than Muku did, and longer hair that matched Kazunari’s hair in length tucked under the white ghutra he wore on his head. And, to finish it all off, he was exactly as lanky as Tenma expected Muku to become when he grew up - though Muku himself would probably be a lot less spindly than Sinbad. Still, he looked healthy enough.

It’s still twenty leagues of terrifying to have him looming over Tenma regardless, an eyebrow raised. Sleepy eyed as he was, there was a strange glint of danger in his eyes that Tenma didn’t understand. “Well now, Hera. Who’s this? A son I’ve never heard about?”

“If I said that I’d like you to pretend he is whenever we’re out in public, would you?”

Sinbad raises his eyebrow at her. “Intriguing. What’s in it for me.”

“My eternal gratitude. And a free pass to scare Ali Baba in the middle of the night again.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Hera,” Sinbad laughs before turning again to Tenma. “My name is Sinbad. Though I suppose Hera here’s already told you that, hm?”

Tenma nods. “Uh. I’ve heard of you. And Sinbad the Sailor.”

“Ah. Both of us then.” Sinbad holds out a hand. “Your name, boy?”

Is a handshake appropriate? He gives him a handshake. “Tenma.”

“Tenma? That’s not a name that-”

“Sounds like it’s from around here? You’d be correct, Sinbad.” Scheherazade looks around. “But we shouldn’t speak about it here. I know you - you know places to hide. Places to rest. Do you know a place where we can talk about this?”

Sinbad scratches at the scruff on his chin, humming. “I’ve got three more deliveries to deal with today, so it’ll be awhile before we can talk. But I know a place where you two can rest and wait in the meantime, safe from eyes and ears.”

“That’d be fine. And while we’re in public…” Scheherazade leans in to whisper in Sinbad’s ear something that Tenma can’t hear. “... got it?”

Sinbad frowns. “So they’re roaming the streets again.”

“Yes. And I need you to help me keep Tenma away from them as much as possible.” Scheherazade puts her hands on Tenma’s shoulders. “That is… help me keep  _ Rian  _ away from them as much as possible.”

Tenma’s brow furrows. “Rian?”

“A name to help you blend in.” Scheherazade winks. “It’ll be easier to get around if you had a pseudonym to hold close to your heart. Just as long as you don’t forget your true name. Wear it like a mask that you can take off at will. As long as you remember who you truly are, this will be easy.”

Sinbad shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. “You and your names. Come along now, you two. The place I know is just around the corner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> verse: water me!
> 
> current named characters:  
> \- tenma sumeragi / rian [not ali baba]  
> \- scheherazade, the clever storyteller and wife of ali baba [yuki]  
> \- sinbad the porter, a cryptic good friend of scheherazade [muku]  
> \- sinbad the sailor, a worldhopper of sorts [???]  
> \- aladdin, a good friend of ali baba and scheherazade [kazunari]  
> \- isaar, the sorcerer [kumon]
> 
> \---
> 
> oh NOW i have a voice right when the brainrot for it is over. GRRRRRRRRRRRR slaps my brain around anyway have an illustration this chapter as apology
> 
> as usual yell at me @ ryukogo_art on twitter and @ryukogo on tumblr if you'd like, all i do is mukuyuki brainrot there, on occasion killing game brainrot.


End file.
